Altared Space In Its Last Week...Maybe Ever

In 1997 Mary Tartaro sent out a flier looking for artists to meet in downtown Floyd, Virginia in a building next to the only stoplight in town. Her intention was to create a community of visual artists who were interested in exhibiting work that did not have the sole purpose of being created for sales.

Fifteen people gathered on the floor of a large dusty room on that spring Sunday afternoon. We listened eagerly to Mary's vision of how the space could be transformed into a beautiful gallery and agreed to join in and help turn it into "Altared Space." The name of the gallery was purposefully misspelled to highlight the sanctity of the creative process.

Within a month the large dusty room became two, shiny functional spaces. One half became the "Teahouse Jam, " a cooperative bakery, the other our lovely little gallery, made beautiful by elbow grease and Mary's incredible ability to make big things on a tight budget. The 15 artists who joined Altared Space had paid their first months dues of $15, and now we had a "place."

In her curatorial statement Mary says, "it soon became apparent that Altared Space was bringing a new flavor of art to the community. While the Floyd Country Store was holding its Friday night, old time jamboree just down the street, Altared Space was hosting lively art receptions featuring everything from non-tradtional sculpture to installation and performance art. Its four year run became a key feature in defining Floyd County Eclecticism."

Additionally, it gave the artists who participated in this gallery scene the opportunity to create without always running the subliminal mantra of "will it sell" through their minds. Too often creative juices wither with that hammer hanging overhead. Having been one of the original 15 artists to participate in this gallery, I can attest to the breath of fresh air that Altared Space provided us, both in allowing us to make art for art's sake, but also because we had fun and we had an audience; the space was approachable.

And what makes an art gallery approachable; especially to those not well versed in gallery protocol? Altared Space had great street presence, a professional facade and interior installation requirements that could have been intimidating to the uninitiated. But all kinds of people came to visit the gallery anyway. Often they had a sweet roll and a cup of tea in hand from the "Tea House Jam."

What does make an art gallery approachable? Is it the ability to exhibit art that speaks to the viewer by asking them questions? To trust that "the public" is supposed to be a part of the process of art viewing and include them in our presentations, in some manner? During Altared Space's four year tenure in Floyd County that seemed to work. Perhaps drinking tea while viewing the work helped too.

Robin Scully Boucher