*Read part one here. Part three to be released on January 15th, 2026.
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| fig 1. SSCAC artifact, greeting card by Annie Pierce, 1974 |
Recently, the South Side Community Art Center held a public clean out as they've prepared for their monumental renovation, an event which in addition to welcoming the Center's community, appeared to have also caught the attention of visitors previously unfamiliar with the Center as Faheem briefed me on what went down; what appeared to have prompted at the Center that day more evoked the image of Storage Wars than what may have been the subdued and earnest "day of giving back", as intended in the Center's social media post. Of course, Faheem went and collected as much as possible amidst the slight madness that took place, returning with a significant bounty of curious ephemera (a stray shoe, for example, see iPhone pics below).
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| Faheem showing me the shoe he snagged from the clean out. |
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| The victorious spoils. This image is deceiving - it really is QALOS (Quite A Lot Of Stuff). |
The haul included an eclectic variety of items, the Center ostensibly trying to get rid of as much as they could, from banalities such as desk organization materials to obscurities like decades old coloring books and paintings with no known author. Much of it Faheem saved for utilization within his practice, naturally (how could an artist resist a hyper-authentic pile of stuff charged with the air of a certain place?), but some is meant for the archive, SSCAC artifacts already comfortably claiming a dedicated portion of our flat file collection.
When Faheem recounted the clean out, I was struck by the caliber of the materials that had been let go, and by the challenges associated with an institution parting with objects tied to its own history. This is not a new topic - in fact, a good portion of the SSCAC collection in this archive is recovered from times when Faheem has thought to look through what would've been thrown away on the Center's occasional overhaul days, or items that are otherwise not missed by the Center's own archive. In our ensuing conversations, I have marveled each time, with Faheem remarking that they simply get rid of what they don't need. An institution's value-judgements are contingent on who is doing the thing at the moment, how well information on another thing is kept, limited resources, all over the span of however many measurements of time, a myriad of another multitude of various elements; whether what is discarded is to the Center's own long term detriment or benefit is all circumstantial. As with any organization, bandwidth can stretch thin, space can be tight, and stuff gets a little mixed up. The institution must act in its' best interest, and that can simply manifest as anything which unavoidably marks its' own future for better or for worse. It is truly peculiar, this all being an extremely distinct, yet commonplace issue which emerges over the formation of managerial habits, a problem so utterly a product of bureaucracy, an unremarkable, banal image of volatility - it is downright bizarre to think that it may so heavily sway the probability of mortality for an organization, unfathomable to think this affliction may also exist within a landmark force such as the South Side Community Art Center.
Of course, the heart of these questions concern value. We understand that the value we ascribe to things is equally mutable, conditional to abstract reasonings that can shift or be erased at any moment. The assignment of value affirms itself, and so the object and its' perceived value is tied to its' appraiser. In its' reverse logic, or with the knowledge of an objects' fluctuating value-history, how could an artist who is deeply connected to an institution's both literal and metaphorical interiors resist said institution's self-produced pile of stuff it has suddenly deemed worthless? This casting of values, each decision and reasoning to hold onto an object is what delineates the existence of this archive. Each item within the collection, each artifact presented here on this blog, is the physical verdict of each moment Faheem has decided to keep something; his work clues us in, and the choice artifacts of an individual reanimate as through the remediation of extrinsic forces; see how Figure 1 recalls the sentiments regarding appearances from Piano Push into the past. Note the language in Figures 2 and 3 of the SSCAC's reflexive efforts away from obscurity and stagnation in the 1980s, these similar attitudes evident in the 2000s as reflected by Faheem here in his Demise text.
Much has changed since Faheem's sentiments from his era as director at the Center. The SSCAC's clean out could be seen as a final exhibition to the public with a selection of objects, a sort of strange, ultra-interactive, disposal-curated exhibit that can be interpreted as merely the result of a bureaucratic decision-making, but is best understood as the last public event the Community Art Center held before they closed their doors, to reopen anew in 2027.
Please enjoy part two of Faheem Majeed's 2009 graduate thesis work, The Demise of the South Side Community Art Center: Part I. Part three will be released on January 15th, 2026.
“My impression is that this institution wasn’t originally set up to be a commercially prosperous position. It’s been about maintenance rather than resurrection or re-invention. Growth has not really been the focus.”
- Yashua Klos
(See Appendix XVII)
Margaret Burroughs is the oldest living charter member of the SSCAC and played a large part in the shaping of the organization in its early years. At the age of 92, she is the last living charter member of the SSCAC, has served as Commissioner of the Chicago Park District since 1985, founded the DuSable African American Museum of Art, taught art in the Chicago Public Schools since 1946, and currently still teaches art to men in Chicago prisons. She has devoted her life to the service of her community.
In her art practice she is known for her printmaking that depicts various African American historical figures (Harriet Tubman, Malcolm X, Paul Robeson, etc) and images of gatherings that illustrated racial harmony (See Appendix VI).
Because of her contribution to the arts community, she is heralded as the matriarch of the SSCAC as well as numbers of other organizations. Many of the traditions, processes, and routines that are practiced within the SSCAC today were created or inspired by her leadership.
In the summer of 2008, Dr. Burroughs called me at the SSCAC and told me that she was ready to donate her original linocut blocks to the SSCAC. Her instructions were to use the blocks and images to promote the organization. In 1952, Dr. Burroughs traveled to study in Mexico with Taller de Gráfica Popular. After her time with the Mexican print makers, she adopted the philosophy of making artwork accessible to the masses. Dr. Burroughs created copies of her prints and would sell them for $20 - $50 or give them away to people to whom she took a liking. The value in Dr. Burroughs' work was never monetary as it was always connected to the message and ideas that were present in the images. Over the years she has handed out thousands of her images to a variety of individuals. Because of the frequency of her generosity, she has saturated certain small and large collections of art appreciators. Her work has been reduced to poster art. The value of her philosophy and practice has been lost in a consumerist art market.
The addition of Dr. Burroughs’ linocut blocks to the SSCAC art collection was a very spontaneous event. Because Dr. Burroughs’ home is across the street from the SSCAC, the exchange consisted of her calling me at the SSCAC and asking me to walk across the street to gather the bulk of her life’s work and walk it back to the SSCAC in old brown paper bags. During this transaction I remember my surprise at how small each of the blocks were. The average block is 11” x 13” and the majority of her signed prints are 16” x 20”. I realized that the prints she was handing out weren’t pulled from the linocut blocks and that all of the images that so many individuals had adopted as open ended series of work were just enlarged photocopies. I found this to be both humorous and intriguing. The disconnect between what was originally created to what is currently presented seemed like a metaphor for SSCAC.
In my work “Matriarch Mold” I recontextualize the art and voice of Dr. Burroughs. I also delved into issues of institutional practices connected to tradition (see appendix VII). The function of a mold is to record information in order to transfer and make a replica of the original. In my piece, the mold functioned as a metaphor for communication and knowledge sharing. By making molds of various art works of the SSCAC’s art collection, I am communicating with artists from other generations. In my recasting of the artworks, details and information are lost due to my lack of knowledge of the process of mold making. This act draws parallels to the lack of structure within the SSCAC. Temporary practices created out of necessity have become accepted traditions.
“Matriarch Mold” consisted of my carving an enlarged version of Dr. Burroughs’ “Riding Together” into two 4’ x 8’ sections of drywall over the course of three weeks. My intention, once completed, was to make a large mold of the 8’ x 8’ image in order to make a large replica of the original block (See Appendix VIII).
Using a tongue and cheek strategy of making the message of Dr. Margaret Burroughs bigger, I literally attempted to make Dr. Burroughs artwork bigger. Because of the scale of the drywall and my lack of resources and knowledge of mold making, the finished product was never achieved. After struggling through the process of trying to make a ridiculously large mold of the drywall sections, the final product is the destroyed dry wall carving and an emaciated mold. The broken drywall etching becomes a symbol of the lost and unseen original product and the emaciated mold becomes a symbol of destroyed and uninformed ambition (See Appendix IX.) The “Matriarch Mold” stands on its own as an original work, but its presentation is far removed from the original inspiration of the “Riding Together” linocut block. Through the loss of old information, new information is created.
fig 2. first issue of previous SSCAC newsletter, Center Piece, 1984
Community, Boundaries and a Box
A portion of my work deals with the impact of the SSCAC on its surrounding/immediate community and the community’s impact in the SSCAC. Located in Bronzeville, the SSCAC sits on a block in which boundaries have been created by differences in class, religion, financial and social status. The “Vacant Box” work is concerned with challenging these boundaries and creating dialogue between residents of this block.
Located across the alley behind the SSCAC is a vacant lot that has become a meeting space for local residents. The vacant lot is owned by Apostolic Faith Church and is used as a parking lot for its parishioners on Sundays. Monday through Saturday it has been adopted as a neighborhood gathering space. To the west of the vacant lot across the alley sits the South Side Community Art Center, to north is the studio of well known artist Kerry James Marshall, to south is a small thrift store, and on the corner is Rothschild liquor store. The vacant lots also share an alley with a number of new and rehabbed condo developments.
The groups of people who meet in the space are predominantly African-American males, ranging from 50 to 70 years in age. Usually the meetings are accompanied by consumption of alcohol and chemical substances. The presence of the Rothschild Liquors on the blocks South East Corner and the drug dealers North West corner, make the vacant lot the ideal meeting location for the inebriated (See Appendix X).
In “Vacant Box”, I fabricated 13” x 13” x 13” cubes out of wood planks from shipping crates used to package and send Shona Sculpture from Ghana to the States. The history of these materials that were used by West African laborers to package art work that was locally created and shipped to the states for consumers intrigued me. The crates were riddled with imperfections and functional solutions; bent reused rusty nails, poorly cut irregular planks, shredded local newspapers, and shipping information written in red and black marker. I found these crates to be far more interesting than the sculptures that were shipped because the imperfections found on the boxes imply a far more interesting history than the mass produced, generic shona sculptures that they contained (See Appendix XI).
Each wooden box was similar in size to the milk crates that are used as stools for sitting. My strategy was to insert the boxes into the vacant lot over the course of two months by exchanging them for the milk crates.
In my delivering of the boxes, I would create opportunities for dialogue between myself and the men and women who frequented the vacant lot. Through these conversations, I worked to challenge the social boundaries of the block and the wariness or concern that arise from interaction.
Through my discussions while sitting on the boxes, I found that many of the people within the lot had been coming there for decades. We spoke about the gentrification and the change of terrain on the block. I was given a history lesson in what residents and businesses were around in previous decades. We also spoke of various subjects including local, national, global politics. I was chastised for not being able to keep up in the conversation and was told I needed to be more knowledgeable on international issues. I also learned more about how my offering needed to be more customized to its surroundings. I realized that in my making of the boxes, I had become engaged in the materials, but not directly with the end users. I had accidentally overlooked certain necessities, like handles, that would allow the users to easily move the boxes as needed.
After the initial two month period, the boxes slowly began to move off of the vacant lot. I have surmised that some were destroyed in fits of anger and some might have been removed for personal use. Ultimately, the boxes disappeared.
Note: see previous post dedicated to Vacant Box for additional images not included here.
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| fig 3. handbill for SSCAC exhibition titled Years Of Struggle, Growth, and Survival, 1981 |
Cultural Identity, Tradition and The Piano Push
Hello,
I attended the annual SSCAC auction this year as well as Marva Jolly's opening reception on Saturday, Oct. 6, 2007. At the auction you were dressed in a suit and tie and looked like the curator of an historic and significant Chicago institution. At Ms. Jolly's opening you were dressed in construction site attire not befitting the important position you hold or properly representing the Center. This observation may seem trivial, but clothes make the man.
- Email from SSCAC Constituent
(See Appendix XII)
“Piano Push” is a piece that deals with a number of issues I have encountered as an artist trying to balance my own practice with my role as an administrator of a culturally specific institution. A number of issues have come into play including cultural norms, my ability to maintain my own separate identity, unrealistic expectations of the staff, and the conflicting roles of artist and administrator. Within my organization, as is often the case in other small organizations, individuals are expected to take on a variety of roles. “Piano Push” is a response to my frustration with the numerous roles and expectations that have been placed on my shoulders.
In “Piano Push”, I am shown dressed in a suit slowly and arduously moving a mini grand piano from one side of a room to another over the course of 10 minutes. The attire of a black suit suggests that I will play the instrument when it is finally positioned, but this expectation is never realized (See Appendix XIII).
The sound track is comprised of the scraping of the piano legs rolling across the old wooden floors, hard soled shoes walking across the room, and the sound of hissing steam from the radiator all of which are out or sync with the actual events occurring during the video.
Similar to the Greek Myth of Sisyphus, I take on the arduous task of moving the massive burden around the room. My black suit and refined appearance referenced the e-mail note at the beginning of this section. I have observed that culturally, there are certain expectations of an African-American artist in the Bronzeville art buying community. This has been dictated by a history of blacks seeking to be accepted by the majority and assimilating by being “dressed up” and even sometimes overdressed to combat the negative stereotypes. This same expectation is placed on individuals like myself who are leading culturally relevant and historic institutions. The critique of dress is made without regard to the reality of maintaining and running the organization. The email specifically speaks to the opening of an exhibit I was managing. At the time, the SSCAC had no additional funding for staff so even the smallest details, such as changing toilet paper, had to be handled by me. In preparing for this show, I had to hang and arrange the work, clean the space, set up food with the aid of volunteers while making sure not to neglect my other duties (i.e. responding to artists and individuals who walk through the doors, answer phones, raise funds and develop community relationships). Between running around to maintain the building and hanging the show, I had no time to change into my suit that I keep hanging in a back room. Obviously, this did not go unnoticed.
In addition to the cultural expectations of my role within the SSCAC, I must also navigate a delicate political landscape that includes artist egos, board member involvement, community expectations and other culturally specific organizations. Because of the history of the SSCAC, there have been certain failures that are continually associated with the institution despite the current changes that are taking place. There are relationships that must be maintained in order to satisfy board member concerns and prevent community upset. All of this must be balanced while recognizing that many of the complaints come with little to no offers for help in rebuilding the institution. At some point my identity has become intertwined with the institution. I no longer stand alone as an individual for the SSCAC, but rather a representation to be held accountable for any perceived successes and failures. Therefore, in “Piano Push”, the moving of the actual piano becomes a symbol of my efforts to handle the politics and challenges associated with an institution like the SSCAC. It references generational expectations and loss of personal boundaries and identity.
It is with a frustrated fondness that I understand these perceptions including the e-mail I received. The sender was communicating with me from a place of concern which created a mix of emotions for me. On the one hand, I felt her opinion was misinformed and that she did not realize the factors associated with my dressing the way I did. Why does it matter what I look like as long as the exhibition and the organization are progressing? Ultimately, I never responded to her email because I honestly didn’t know how to reply. The epiphany is that in trying to balance my goals as an administrator, I may never truly achieve balance in the eyes of my constituents.
“Faheem decided to marry the Old Guard, but also to bring something new. He has another vision, which involves contesting the old ways. There are now opportunities for resurrection, but it implies a death. You can never be sure the thing that’s resurrected is the thing that was. There’s a risk.”
- Theaster Gates
(See Appendix XVII)
Because of the overwhelming number of expectations and systematic problems within the organization, the SSCAC has a long history of exhausting employees and community volunteers. If I am to be successful in both my roles as administrator and artist I feel that one must directly inform the other.
Appendix VI
Appendixes VII
Appendixes VIII
Appendixes IX
Appendixes X
Appendixes XI
Appendixes XII
Appendix XIII
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