Julian’s Experience

Last Saturday, I attended Nashville’s Artville in its second year since its launch in September 2023. A key difference in my experience this year compared to last is that, in 2023, I only attended the pre-show and missed the main event due to scheduling conflicts. This time, I skipped the pre-show and went straight to the main event on Saturday, September 28th. To explain my journey, I’ve divided my story into three parts: the overall event (including public installations), the exhibitions, and the artist talks. It’s important to note that the first two sections are part of one continuous narrative, while the third stands alone with its own timeline.

The Event in General

Attending this year’s event wasn’t an easy decision, as I was debating whether it was worth going, especially with the forecast predicting bad weather. As the day began, it was a light but steady rain. Equipped with a raincoat, a couple of cameras, and water-resistant shoes, I headed out anyway. After all, events like this are incredibly rare in Tennessee.

Arriving at the main event was anticlimactic. I expected energy and more visitors, but the rain seemed to have scared off not only the crowd but also many vendors. Initially, I was shocked by the lack of signage and overheard people talking about the cancellation of vendors and the artisan market. It felt like a huge blow, making the day’s activities brief, with a tour that could be done in under an hour. Due to the weather, the event organizers moved nearly every installation to a single spot beneath a container overhang. Instead of touring the fairgrounds, all the art installations were cramped into one space—a last-minute decision that was painfully obvious. Taking photos was a challenge, as I constantly had to move tables, chairs, and benches just to get a clear view of the installations.

The pieces themselves left me perplexed. While variety is essential in public installations, many of these works seemed poorly suited for outdoor display. It was clear that the decision to relocate them under cover was a necessity to protect them from the elements. Unfortunately, this highlighted a significant oversight in the curatorial process: public art meant for outdoor spaces should either transform with or endure the elements. Many of the pieces were made from textiles or fibers, including soft sculptures, stuffed, inflated, or draped forms. Because of the last-minute arrangement, I saw most of the installations within the first 10 minutes—a disappointment, especially since I had planned to spend the whole day exploring and photographing the works.

^{Sunset Synthesizer by Amanda Browder}

Despite the challenges, the art was impressive. My first encounter was Amanda Browder’s Sunset Synthesizer, a combination of two previous works repurposed in a new context. It resembled a monument, enveloping an architectural object as if it were trying to take over. Browder’s pieces are community-made, involving both material contributions and labor, giving each one a unique, personal touch. I must add that I saw Browder herself adjusting the piece, likely due to the heavy rain and strong winds from the night before. She rushed over to finish rearranging it as I approached with my camera.

^{Palabras de Esperanza/Words of Hope by Andrés Bustamante}

Next, I encountered Palabras de Esperanza/Words of Hope, a piece by Colombian artist Andrés Bustamante, participating for his second year. His work, made of acrylic with a metallic mirror finish, invites people to write messages to their younger selves using colored markers. As you write, the reflective surface shows your own face, prompting reflection on why you’re not taking your own advice now.

^{Filling the Void by Katrina Sánchez}

I was also eager to see Katrina Sánchez’s work, Filling the Void. As someone who owns one of her primary noodle scarves, I was excited to experience more of her art. Due to unforeseen circumstances, her pieces were presented on metal stands made by her husband, John “Cheeks” Bates. The original plan was to suspend the pieces from the ceiling of the container-like structures, but they had to rethink the presentation on the spot. Interestingly, this worked in their favor, as the lower positioning allowed visitors to interact with the plushy spheres.

^{Ulysses and the Sirens by Duncan McDaniel}

Interactivity was a theme for many of the pieces, including Duncan McDaniel’s Ulysses and the Sirens. This work featured five Chau gongs suspended in a slight V formation, with the first and fifth gongs hung higher than the others. Visitors could pull cords like bows, releasing them to strike the gongs and produce resonant sounds. The piece draws from John William Waterhouse’s 1891 painting *Ulysses and the Sirens*, but in this case, the “sirens” are the sounds that lure visitors in. It was highly effective in attracting curiosity.

The final piece I encountered was one I nearly missed. After dinner at a local restaurant with Katrina and her husband, who is also my cousin, we stumbled upon Jason Brooks’ installation. Brooks, participating for the second year, had created a nostalgic display featuring painted 90’s monitors connected to a camera. Visitors could sit in front of the camera, and their facial expressions would alter both the video and the sounds being played. The interactive nature of the piece was captivating, combining technology with art in a way that felt both familiar and innovative.

To close, I want to commend the artists who persevered despite the challenges, bringing some joy with workshops and face painting for children. I also have to give a shout-out to the one food truck, Lua, that braved the weather and served me some empanadas that were the closest thing to home—Puerto Rico—that I’ve had in Tennessee, as the vendor portion of the event had also been canceled.

The Exhibitions

To end this one, Artville 2024 was a mixed but memorable experience, shaped largely by the unpredictable weather and the resilience of the artists. Despite the rain’s impact on crowd size and installations, the event showcased the adaptability of both artists and organizers, with many installations transformed in ways that still captivated visitors. The gallery exhibitions stood out, offering spaces where the art could truly shine. The artist talks provided a more intimate and engaging experience, offering real insight into the creative minds behind the work. Overall, Artville continues to grow as a cultural touchpoint for Nashville, with this year’s challenges underscoring the dedication of the artists and the community to keep the creative spirit alive, even in the face of adversity. After all, it’s only their second year; I’m sure it’ll grow to be something bigger over the next few years.

After viewing all the installations, I tossed the Artville map aside—it had become obsolete due to the changes—and headed to the nearby galleries to see what they had prepared for the fair. Two galleries stood out to me, along with two internal spaces within a third. These, in my view, truly understood the assignment.

^{Art O’ Fiscal Intelligence by Samuel Dunson exhibition view}

The first standout was the Julia Martin Gallery. The building, which looks like an old house or small shop converted into a gallery, offered two exhibition spaces: the porch and the lobby leading to a side room. On the porch was a selection of works by James Worsham, while the interior featured an exhibition by Sam Dunson titled Art O’ Fiscal Intelligence—undoubtedly a highlight. Dunson’s work was truly captivating, overshadowing what was displayed outside. As I explored the small gallery, I found myself wanting to see more of Dunson’s creations. Each object was sewn, stuffed, and painted in a variety of shapes, materials, and colors, making it clear that there was thought and a story behind each piece. The Julia Martin Gallery made the first night of the fair even more special by offering a closing show and talk with Dunson in the space, starting just before 5:00 PM.

After leaving the Julia Martin Gallery, I continued to the next closest spot, The Packing Plant. Although several spaces were open to the public, only two truly captured my attention. The first, to the right as you enter, featured work by Scott Carter. This room sparked my curiosity immediately. I was drawn in by the unusual combination of materials: glass objects with tubing and metal. It was a strange mix, yet it worked. The room housed six pieces by Carter, made from glass beer bottles, sand, tubing, copper tape, aluminum casts, and even some 3D-printed objects. Though the materials were unconventional, Carter managed to create intriguing compositions with each piece.

The second space in The Packing Plant was a screening room showing a variety of short films on different topics. This micro-cinema was the perfect use of the space, inviting visitors to sit down and enjoy moving art. Unfortunately, several events overlapped with the artist talks I attended, so I missed a few, but if you stayed, you could enjoy a film screening and book reading by Joe Nolan, a dance performance by Numinous Flux, and another film by the performers. I spent about 30 minutes here, soaking it in, resting, and enjoying my first film screening since leaving Puerto Rico.

The second gallery that stood out was Zeitgeist. When I entered, the space was almost empty of visitors, but the walls were covered with art by Brady Haston. This was purely a matter of taste, but there was something about Haston’s work that drew me in. I started by taking pictures of the gallery and then examined each piece closely. At first glance, Haston’s work looked like acrylic illustrations, possibly screen prints, but a closer inspection revealed they were oil paintings on linen canvases. The flat colors gave way to detailed brushstrokes that brought out the texture of beards, shirts, grass, and wooden logs. As I continued to explore, I found a seamless visual language connecting Haston’s oil paintings with his sumi ink and pencil sketches, all demonstrating a strong sense of identity and mastery of different techniques without losing cohesion. The imagery felt undeniably American, evoking illustrations you might see in a 1950s or 60s magazine about lumber, interiors, or landscape design.

The Artist Talks

After leaving Zeitgeist, I did two things: first, I stopped by the café next door for some much-needed coffee and a snack, then I headed to the first artist talk at the David Lusk Gallery. The theme of the panel, *Designing Your Home for Your Art Collection*, was more about interior design than art, and frankly, it left much to be desired. The questions were vague, non-specific, and felt almost random. Honestly, I couldn’t stay engaged. I’m a design enthusiast—I have a BFA in Industrial Design—but this conversation was a struggle to follow. I commend the panelists for trying to make the best out of the situation, but even their insightful takes and efforts to steer the conversation couldn’t save it. After 30 minutes of what felt like a filler segment from a daytime TV show, I walked away.

I then made my way back to Zeitgeist, both eager and a bit apprehensive about the second panel taking place there. The excitement came from the fact that I was about to see my cousin John for the first time in over a decade and finally meet his wife, Katrina Sanchez, one of the artists on the panel. As more people arrived, I took the chance to photograph the gallery full of visitors interacting with the artwork. Soon after, I saw my cousin walk in, and we caught up as though no time had passed. While we were talking, Amanda Browder, another panelist, joined us. I not only got to meet her but also had a pleasant conversation before settling in to watch the panel unfold.

This panel kicked off on a strong note. The moderator, Vadis Turner, cleverly broke the ice by reading a children’s book titled *What Do You Do With An Idea?* This unique approach sidestepped the usual generic questions and set the stage for a deep dive into each artist’s creative process. The panelists—Samuel Dunson, Beizar Aradini, Amanda Browder, Katrina Sanchez, and Ash Atterberry—discussed their inspirations, challenges, and the ideas they obsess over. It was fascinating to hear how they approach their work: Dunson, for instance, spoke about moving away from familiar mediums and rolling with the punches in his foray into sewing, while Katrina Sanchez wrestled with being a perfectionist, striving for control. In contrast, Browder shared how she embraces the unpredictability of the materials donated to her and the varying sizes of her community team. Atterberry’s story about ceramics was a classic: doing everything by the book, only to have a piece explode in the kiln.

We also got a glimpse into their next steps. Most of the answers were as expected, but Beizar Aradini surprised us by revealing she’s planning to end her current body of work and start fresh, as she’s just resumed her studies. It’s a time for her to reassess and integrate her new skills into her art. The panel flowed effortlessly, with no awkward silences, and the audience was buzzing with questions. After the talk, many attendees stayed behind to chat with the artists, clearly wanting to learn about the artists.