What a blessing to have silence not only available, but enforced at an art event, so you can finally focus on experiencing the art without the distraction of social interaction. For a writer like me, who hopes to achieve exactly this state every time I visit an exhibition, this year’s Renaissance Society gala in Chicago was simply perfect. “There are a lot of events that confuse noise with energy, and I wanted to remove that confusion,” artist Maurizio Cattelan, who designed the event, tells me, adding that silence changes how people receive things. “This does not mean that communications stop completely; rather, they become less efficient and more exposed. People write, wait, and look longer.” To him, it seemed like a good introduction to an artistic event, although he admitted that many artists handled silence much better than ever before, from John Cage to Joseph Grigeli. “I wasn’t trying to make a statement so much as I was trying to interrupt an automatic behavior. A social reaction is usually celebrated, and silence makes that reaction visible.”
Only a provocateur like Cattelan could turn the legendary Renbin Gala—which this year raised nearly $600,000 to support the museum’s exhibitions, performance series, concerts, and public programs, all of which remain free and open to the public—into a work of art of its own: a silent scavenger hunt, a group performance, and an expansive solo show that is also a curated group show. In its final act, the evening turns once again into something resembling an Italian wedding celebration, or sagra, those village-level ceremonies that blur the distinction between host and guest.
“The one-man show is really full of other people. Helpers, references, ghosts, interruptions,” says Cattelan, explaining that the evening would be nothing without the sum of its parts. Many of the participating artists had relationships with Ren. Some situations have been created where guests can interact and take something with them. “The game was simple: Give guests a structure, then let them get a little lost within it.”
Cattelan took over two floors of the Chicago Athletic Association’s historic downtown architecture and designed a journey through the rooms that sparked a smile from each of the evening’s 400 guests. Silent films, cut-outs, works could have been his or simply left there. The rooms look like abandoned hotel interiors: a crime scene, or the trail of someone who suddenly disappeared. “The gallery space has been left as is,” says one of the text displayed on the screen. Bottles of Franciacorta were served from the bathtub. Silent waiters gesture to guests to offer Midwestern cicetti, and guests bow again in thanks—a silent social ritual that becomes a performance in itself.
The screen displayed an “urgent appeal” to donate to the foundation, while also emphasizing that it was a “fun” moment, encouraging us to find joy in it. “Art should make you feel; art should make you think, and REN will give you the opportunity, to understand that the Renaissance never ended.” Next to it was a classic church donation box. One of the rooms appeared to be under renovation and was covered with clear plastic sheets. In another video, a video shows what looks like bodies lying like algae on the beach. The party was a maze ride, through which people moved like children exploring, eventually arriving at a room filled with balloons, like a maze.
The Polaroid Room turned every visitor into the hero of the show. In another story, a magical card game takes place without words. In another image, a moving skeleton by Turkish artist Ozgur Kar appears on the screen. A series of silent films selected by Dan Morgan and Alison Field reminds us of the narrative and expressive power of early silent cinema. Elsewhere, visitors are invited to slow down the art slides and view them as if they were at a lecture. Then there’s a man wearing headphones and playing the guitar in a kind of trance, offering, without words, a quiet statement: Sometimes the inner world is bigger than the world we perform for others. Nearby, Sigmund Freud is eerily evoked in a video by Isadora Nieves Márquez The early death of Sigmund Freud. In one of the last rooms, there’s a screen that says “Your leg is on your partner’s wrist,” which three artists represent in a piece by David Palola until an electrical circuit changes the flow.
Cattelan’s show unfolds over two floors as a psychological, imaginative and inward-oriented maze. His ban on conversation forced festival-goers to focus on the experience, stripping away that layer of social performativity that often distracts from art encounters. Then, towards the end, a white canvas with a golden toilet appears – the only unmistakable Catalan gesture.
In her remarks, Renaissance Society Board President Nancy Lehner Fry described the evening as “a work of perseverance and resistance to speed and noise.” Ironically, when the crowd gathered in Stag Court, the museum’s executive director and chief curator, Meriem Ben Salah, was forced to call for silence, almost shouting at a crowd that had suddenly become out of control after an hour and 30 minutes of imposed quiet, and she immediately resumed her social performance.
She said that humor is not the opposite of seriousness, but rather a way to bear it, referring to Cattelan’s artistic practices. “Staying off the beat or off track” is a blessing, she added, before revealing the long list of artists who have been involved in Cattelan’s choreography, including Isabel Frances McGuire, Josh Diehl, Alejandro Cesarco, Max Gay, Cher Indy, Jacob Ryan Reynolds, Gysleje Kunmin, William Churchill, Peter Wachtler and Osgur Carr.
Then the mood changed. The music blared, and the crowd began dancing to the Italian folk songs played by La Tosca. Dinner was served ballroom-style Sala Veneziana: tri-color salad and lemon risotto, menu designed by Jason Hamel of Café Lola. In conclusion, the 3.5 meter long tiramisu turned out – very good, it must be said – as Veneta as Maurizio himself, who lived in Treviso.
Only Cattelan could turn an American institution’s party into an Italian wedding. That ballera moment, the ballroom as a real collective ritual that we all probably miss. “I’m not sure it was Italian. Have you ever known Italians who keep their mouths shut?” Cattelan notes slyly. When asked for three words to describe the evening, he offers ritual, embarrassment and liberation. “Rituals, because people need form before they lose form,” he explains. “Embarrassment, because embarrassment makes you self-conscious. It’s a very honest way. Liberating, because pleasure comes only after self-control.” He adds that Italians know that the line between mourning and celebration is very thin. “It helps,” he says.
When I asked Ben Salah how she sees her role, she said that her main priority is to keep artists at the center while accepting the fact that institutions do not work on ideals alone. “Being a curator also means fundraising, hosting, persuading, producing, and troubleshooting. I don’t resent that. In fact, I find some of it really interesting, even satisfying in its own way,” she admits, emphasizing that all of these jobs should remain in service of the artistic project rather than moving away from it.
Organizing a fundraiser every year isn’t her favorite thing in the world, which is why she decided to turn it into an artist-led project. “We’re fortunate to work with some of the most creative people, so why hand over our biggest annual event to a corporate events company when we can instead use it as another space for experimentation? This shift has changed everything for me,” she says, noting that even if raising 25 percent of their annual budget in one night isn’t exactly easy, it’s more fun when it’s rooted in the artist’s vision.
Chicago, according to Ben Salah, has two very different but equally vibrant energies: on the one hand, its venerable institutions like the Art Institute and MCA, and on the other, its artist-run spaces, residential galleries, and lively DIY scene. “I think Ren has always held a very special place between those two poles, and we’re happy to live in that space in between. Obviously we’re not an artist-run space, but we’re not a completely oiled-up institution either. We’ve tried to maintain some of the levity, flexibility and sweatiness of the former, while providing support and continuity for the latter.”
Ben Salah admits that aligning RenBen with EXPO has been a real game-changer. “This has transformed the type of audience an event can bring together, bringing artists, curators, collectors and friends from all over the world into the same room, and allowing us to create a meaningful synergy not just with the gallery itself, but with the broader constellation of people and institutions that make this week so stimulating for the city,” she concluded. And if Renbin was the energy test of the city’s Art Week, Chicago felt more than prepared, brimming with the intensity of a golden age in full swing.
