Artist Story: Carol Giannasi

I was pretty sure cows didn't bite, but when one came my way, I didn’t want to leave anything to chance, so I ran. My husband, Rick, was on a fast trot ten feet ahead of me—no help there. We got out of the barn alive and laughed our butts off. Rick is a firm believer in real estate as investment, and we were looking at property in the heart of Wisconsin's beautiful Kettle Morraine, with the hope of turning it into an artists’ retreat. It was a five-acre “farmette” that included a pre-Civil War house, a barn, and outbuildings. For the barn, Rick envisioned stripping the milk stalls down to the fieldstone and adding windows in the hayloft, sliding glass doors, an exterior staircase, and track lighting. I could paint in the rehabbed space, have shows, and invite friends. It sounded grand. So that year (2000), I cashed in a CD, and we signed the papers. The cows moved out, and the work crew moved in.

When we started the rehab, neighbors were curious and then grew panicky. They saw the windows, stairs, and doors and thought we were building housing—or worse, a hippie commune. We returned from the city to find cease and desist orders plastered everywhere. Rick visited City Hall to find out what the fuss was about. When he was told the barn was zoned for animals and storage, he replied that his wife was an artist, and she was going to paint there and invite her friends to see her work. "Oh, art," they said. “We love art!" And then they gave us the necessary variance.

Rick did everything he said he would do with the property and more, including putting in a pond that he now grinningly calls "a serenity pond." By summer, we were ready for our first show. The exhibit went well, and most visitors were from a social club at a nearby lakeside community. I had personally passed out invites at their seasonal kickoff event. All the neighbors came to check us out, and I believe we were judged harmless enough. I felt free to pursue my artistic vision for the barn.

Setbacks and Successes

After reading about the Kettle Morraine Studio Tour, in which artists use barns and outbuildings as studios and galleries, I excitedly called the director to inquire about participating. He said they didn't want to get too big, as had happened in Baraboo, though they were going to discuss the issue at a spring meeting. Soon after, I was informed the answer was no. I didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved that my work and space had been rejected unseen.

I did another exhibit the next summer with an expensive, labor-intensive mailing. The postcard art was a detail from a painting inspired by the World Trade Center attacks—a phoenix against a field of Van Gogh-style stars. On the other side was a small colored photo of the barn. I used the lakeside directory and the mailing lists from the social club and our realtor. As some of this information overlapped, the mailing became a monster. A neighbor took pity and pitched in, and I was finally able to bring the mailing to the post office. A few days later, I received several irate phone calls: People wondered how I’d gotten their address. Other than that, we received no response from the mailing but did attract visitors who had either seen my promo flyer, an event calendar, or an ad in the Shopper. Or they'd read a mention in a newsletter or local website. Overall, the show went well.

We had an idea to combine art shows with other events, such as a fundraiser for the victims of Katrina. For this, I turned the barn into the "Cafe du Elkhorn" with posters that read "Benefit for the Big Easy." We charged $40 apiece for admission and allocated all proceeds to hurricane relief in New Orleans. We did a New Orleans-style BBQ, complete with gumbo, cold beer, coffee, beignet, prizes, surprises, and an art walk. A reporter came out to the farm a week before the event when I was still figuring out the logistics of an art walk. In honor of the French Quarter, I quickly assembled wrought iron and garden statuary combinations, which created a path around the property and pond. It seemed to make the reporter happy, and I liked it, too.

I am open to any event that promotes the barn as a venue to see and share art, so I was happy to host the Walworth County Arts Council Fall Luncheon. We called a barn architect who told us we could only safely accommodate 900 people. I recruited the same person who’d given me the bad news about the studio tour not happening to be part of the afternoon's artist panel. We bought a piece of her work, which is also part of the current exhibit for display only. That day, four artists talked about their work and process and answered questions. The day turned unseasonably cool, and Rick brought out blankets and comforters from the house. The setting, the country quiet, and the art program in the hayloft made the day a unique experience for all in attendance.

Creating Opportunities

Here’s how you promote your artistic venture: You make a flyer and put it wherever they let you: grocery stores, restaurants, gas stations, etc. You wait for permission to post while three librarians chase a bee. You write a publicity blurb for local publications, newsletters, and relevant websites and cross your fingers that it is listed correctly in event calendars. This spring I considered myself organized when I sent my blurbs out a month ahead of my May 15 opening—only to find that they were published in April. Our exhibit hours were from noon to 6 on Saturdays and Sundays, but a paper listed the days as Friday and Saturday. Fierce winds took down the big, beautiful signs I spent a weekend making, and they ended up who knows where. Even so, we received positive press in local news outlets, and more than a hundred people came to the barn. Most importantly, we enjoyed interesting dialogue with visitors and artists.

Last summer, I finally had an artist-in-residence, which meant I could keep the barn open for more than just weekends. She asked me for a mission statement to help her (and me) shape the exhibit. This turned out to be an easy task: The mission at my barn is to promote alternative venues for seeing and sharing art, to celebrate freedom of expression through art, and to foster an artistic community and inspire a connection with the environment. Putting my purpose in writing was good for me. I already knew the barn venture wasn't about money. I also knew that few artists were afforded this kind of opportunity. I felt a responsibility to share this chance to reach out to others through art. When things become frustrating and exhausting, it’s helpful to regain perspective by reading your mission statement.

The barn is a place where I can indulge my love of art. Now when I experience work I enjoy, I often picture it in the barn. I truly love the way that works looks in the light and space of this graceful, welcoming setting. Each piece is given meaning and significance. There are many more miles to go before I sleep, so serenity might still be in the future, but the barn does provide harmony—between art and environment. When my ship comes in, I want to buy art and live in, and with, art. Maybe those neighbors should be getting nervous.

Carol Giannasi has been making art for more than half a century and considers it her life’s purpose. Her Cool Globe was exhibited in the lobby of the Tower Formerly Known as Sears and presented by Major Daley to the Mayor of Copenhagen to announce the opening of the Cool Globe exhibit in Denmark. In the winter months, she paints, draws, and exhibits in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico, and has an upcoming solo show on the famous Avenida Five. She has also shown on rooftops and in caverns, libraries, and storefronts. In the spring, summer, and fall, she coordinates shows and art events at the barn. She hopes to be a happy working artist the rest of her life.

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Update from Carol Giannasi (February 2011): Parking restrictions forced the issue and in October, 2010, I reluctantly gave up my Lincoln Avenue studio/residence of 16 years. I remain committed to seeing and sharing art in alternative venues so took advantage of the empty apartment across the hall to do a studio retro show on the way out. The light and space were perfect. I called it The Gallery Next Door and once again found myself happy to spend days arranging art to share.

The studio has been relocated to Fox Lake in McHenry where I work in a finished, furnished garage which opens on a channel in the Chain of Lakes. This space is unique because it can be approached by boat. Right now, my passby traffic is a dedicated group of ice fishermen, but I am planning an Art Open House for Spring of 2011 which may or may not include a barge. There will definitely be waterfront installation work, as I continue to work with discarded objects and local finds, large and small.

The barn is not forgotten, and I am putting together a multimedia show for this coming June featuring favorite artists, both local and from the Chicagoland area, as well as welcoming new talent to the artistic community. The seasonal installation there, with the working title Kachina Dolls of the Fields, is inspired by the country's Indian history. The Gallery in the Barn is open to, and encourages, live performance. The acoustics are meant to give music something extra, and dance integrated with the artwork could be truly inspiring. Artists interested in participating should contact Carol at rgeaslen@aol.com, Put BARN SHOW in the subject line.

I'm learning new words. As it turns out the pieces I am making are called "constructions" and the salvaged Styrofoam liners from garbage bins and lots is the "strata." I am still working with the materials I collected for my Cool Globe and other various collections. I won't ever run of material—just time.

Through family and friends, four babies came into our lives this year, and I found myself doing their portraits in clay—something classical to help me introduce myself to my new community and potential art appreciators. They just have to have a chance to see some, and that's why what I call "Off Track Art Events" will continue. It would be great to see some of you at the barn this summer.