You Can’t Kill Consciousness

By Jeffery Fosters

There’s an outré off-the-beaten-path art gallery that has suddenly and unexpectedly emerged in the Kips Bay/Murray Hill area of Manhattan. But trust me, this salon gives alternative a whole new meaning. Sure, it exist in this dimension (sort of) but feels more like a virtual sensorial experience than a reality based one. It’s disorienting and that’s a good thing. According to the press release I received last week SHOWROOM “is a modest soirée featuring a connoisseurship of art, design & objects in a setting suited for gracious discourse and divine connections” created by longtime NYC cultural provocateur, Ed Woodham. Woodham is the founder/director of the eighteen year old annual NYC visual and performance festival, Art in Odd Places that takes place each October across 14th Street Manhattan since 2005.

After perusing the minimalist website I reached out via the contact email to arrange a ‘by appointment only’ visit this most recent Sunday. I was texted a designated first location giving me shades of the recent ‘good ol’ days’ – like performance artist Nate Hills’ Death Bear meetups, or secret clandestine events in NYC Water Towers, and Patty Heffley’s fourth-floor fire escape High Line Park Renegade Cabaret.

The appointed nearby park site was square in between spectacular views of The Empire State and The Chrysler Buildings – an iconic respite to contemplate the upcoming new edifying encounter with a post-9-11 pre-pandemic essence of promise. However, I arrived early with time enough to also neurotically vex over the incremental shift of the art world to art market during that transitional window of better times. 

Pandemic art benefits from an unequal distribution of wealth fueled by sellers and buyers of art, using the same dark corners of the global financial system as dictators, politicians, fraudsters and others who benefit from the anonymity these secrecy zones offer. It’s no coincidence that the world’s most prominent art collectors include those whose family fortune has its origins in arms dealing, offshore companies, pharmaceuticals, hedge funds, and bribing government officials in exchange for mining rights – profiteering off human misery. 

Luckily I’m interrupted by a text with the exact details of SHOWROOM located on a quiet tree lined street between two busy avenues in a 1940s private building with 113 residential units. I’m buzzed into the building (no doorperson) and take the elevator to the fifth floor. The doormat reads in large black letters, HOMO with an extremely tiny sign inset it a brass mount that reads SHOWROOM. I ring the bell and I’m greeted by the southern lilt of Ed Woodham’s easy tonal welcome, “Honey, I’m homo!” I’m immediately met with a long hallway featuring an extended thin polycarbonate shelve-LED light designed by Oklahoma breed and Brooklyn based artist Alan Netherton which displays five varying size recent paintings of music album covers on plywood by Steve Keene along the full length of the right side. 

At another polycarbonate built-in flip up table (by Netherton) outside the clever petite kitchen, libations of hot tea, rosé,  sparkling or still waters are offered along with non-gluten vegan delicacies – I’m told from a nearby eatery. This is a long railroad studio apartment with gallery track lighting and a large window at the far end. A further parallel twenty-foot long wall featured the same shelf light with an assortment of more Steve Keene paintings of music album covers. Upon request, there’s a one-sheet that gives more details about Woodham’s relationship with Keene along with information about the ‘permanent collection’ – some outwardly viewable at this visit and others upon invitation.

Four of these were a large print by Cuban born NYC based Edel Rodriguez, a sizeable photo from Atlanta born NYC based Chris Verene’s Galesburg series, an exquisite drawing of a matador by Jean Cocteau, and a substantial concrete head by Georgia folk artist Eddie Owen Martins aka St. EOM hanging on the brick fireplace. 

We sit comfortably alone in classic club chairs at the far end of the space near the window to chat about art, fond recollections of the very recent good-old-days, pandemic fatigue, and sex.

EW: Are you comfortable?

​

JF: Yes, quite. Thank you. How long have you been at this location?

​

EW: July will be two years. I moved during the first wane of the pandemic.

​

JF: What made you move from where?

​

EW: From Gowanus Brooklyn. I’d been in Gowanus since I’d moved back to NYC in 1997. But as I’m sure you know that area is undergoing a major shift of gentrification void of foresight on so many levels: community engagement, environmental, social and economic justice, infrastructure, on and on .  It’s hugely disappointing like so many other NYC, national, and global status quo hard core facts we are faced with at this time. There were also other reasons that prompted the move which I won’t go into here. 

JF: Now my comfort has flummoxed.

EW: Herbal tea?

JF: Yes. Is Art in Odd Places (AiOP) still happening?

EW: Oh yes. Full steam ahead. This is the 18th year. The upcoming October iteration’s focus DRESS is curated by esteemed veteran AiOP artist Gretchen Vitamvas slated for Friday October 13 through Sunday, October 15. Gretchen is imagining 14th Street sidewalks as runways for displays of artists’ interpretations of the varied meanings of the word, dress.

JF: And now SHOWROOM. What is the impetus for SHOWROOM?

EW: It’s a model. Like AiOP is a model of what’s possible without a budget and a brick and mortar space – with the ingenuity and generosity of a dedicated passionate collective. SHOWROOM illustrates the opportunities of possibilities in a tiny NYC studio space  – without all the things you think (and are told) you have to have to make something work. It’s a traveling mobile concept. 

In December 2022 I produced a SHOWROOM group show as a challenge to Miami’s Art Basel at the Cheshire Motor Inn Biennale in Room 153. Cheshire Bridge Road (site of Cheshire Motor Inn) has a decades-long storied history as one of Atlanta’s most notorious nightlife destinations. Cheshire Motor Inn Biennale 2022 in Room 153 presented artists who best met the criteria of timely excellence: from the high standards of the current contemporary art market to the staging of their work in the subterranean chamber of Room 153. During this strange time of in-between purgatory pre-post pandemic state of affairs – the fruit harvested from the special ‘je ne sais quoi’ alchemy that only exists at the wondrously profane Cheshire Motor Inn paired with these gifted creators was sour, sweet, and remarkable. Unfortunately, the Inn’s management shut it down hours before the opening so it had to occur virtually. As John Waters wrote so sublimely in the flick Female Trouble, “you can kill Krishna but you can’t kill consciousness”. 

JF: Is Keene’s work for sell? And what about the permanent collection?

EW: Everything in SHOWROOM is for sale – at a price. More rosé ?

JF: I’m confused. 

EW: Oh, nice. Have one of these. (offers a tray of gummies from a side drawer). Take two for the full benefits.

JF: (I point to a blue Keene painting of a Coltrane album) That one. How much is that one? 

EW: (sighs) SHOWROOM is a catalyst. (long pause) Procurement and placement of the current work on display is an agreement between the artist and the buyer. Prices range from free to excessive. I’m placing artwork and not involved in the details of the commercial exchange other than putting the two of you in touch.

JF: (the pairing of rosé and gummies whisper) What are we listening to?

EW: This is Fred Hersh and Esperanza Spalding, Alive at the Village Vanguard, 2023 Palmetto Records. Beautiful right? I wish I had gotten to see them live in January when it was released. Fred is a friend and a personal hero of survival. I’ve listened to this for weeks over and over.

JF: And what is that lovely fragrance?

EW: Thank you for asking. It’s Nothing a special SHOWROOM mashup of ten aphrodisiac essential oils for love and romance with some high notes of ayahuasca. It’s available in our gift shop.

JF: What’s next at SHOWROOM? Are there exhibitions lined up for the future?

EW: This is a soft opening. The hard opening will happen in about a month or so once a few more physical and metaphysical features are in place. Since the space is small, more work can be seen and made available on our website SHOWROOM.love going live with the hard opening. And also performances.  I’m imagining intimate performances with small invited inclusive audiences tackling taboo subjects and issues.  More to come once things are in position.

JF: Anything else?

EW: Let me see. (closes his eyes) Lot’s else. So far visitors have sang, sorted, hugged, searched, dined, rubbed, napped, slept, glued, snorted, showered, drank, shit, listened, prayed, sucked, hammered, peed, smoked, talked, sketched, kissed, wept, fucked, bargained, drilled, folded, Zoomed, improved, hid, dreamt, vomited, massaged, danced, cleaned, painted, typed, sinned, escaped, applauded, created, plotted, and so much more (opens eyes) ALL BEFORE going public. 

JF: I look forward to what’s ahead, Ed.

I’m escorted to the front door and pointed toward the elevator. As I’m walking away I distinctly hear Ed’s voice in the distance, “There’s no place like Homo!’. 3 times.