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TONY FITZPATRICK: THE CITY ETCHINGS 1993-2003: The Stop Smiling Review
The Stop Smiling Review
Courtesy of Tony Fitzpatrick
Thursday, May 31, 2007
By Megan Merritt
Tony Fitzpatrick’s pride for the city of Chicago isn’t neatly proclaimed on his German Etch paper, but rather seductively tucked into the imagery that speaks out loud. In his most recent exhibit, The City Etchings 1993-2003, Fitzpatrick’s work provides a montage of urban folk and ghostly decay that only the grime of a city could produce. The works travel like a narrative, following one tiny etch to another, stringing together a dark landscape that seems influenced by voodoo, poverty and anonymity. In the same sense that a Gabriel García Márquez novel becomes a literary adventure, Fitzpatrick plays with images of magical realism. “I think of the etchings as a novel without words,” Fitzpatrick said during an interview at his North Side studio on Damen Avenue. He began creating the etchings when his father was diagnosed with irreparable skin cancer. “I felt like the city died when my dad died,” he said. For Fitzpatrick, there’s no sentiment in the “blood, slaughter, steel and railroads” of Chicago; the city hasn’t changed drastically in character. The remnants of railroads are still in place and the people are just as fiery as they’ve always been.
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Like the last kid to get picked in a kickball game, Fitzpatrick feels the Chicago mentality is one focused on catching up: building the tallest building, trying to surpass New York at just about everything and continuing the tradition of “bellicose braggarts,” always quick-witted and constantly toiling.
His works capture tiny moments of dreams — or, in most cases, nightmares — that focus on conjuring specific emotions that are at times uncomfortable, yet reflect a gritty reality. A giant fish on the verge of gobbling a thought bubble, the outline of an empty woman wandering across a bridge and a summer bug smoking a cigarette next to a running eyeball are urban permutations of everyday objects that offer a look beneath Chicago’s underbelly. The show was a presentation of everything ugly, undesirable and ironically romantic about city life. “We want to look back and sterilize Chicago,” he said. As a medium, the etchings are arcane and old-world, a powerful testament to the hard labor and obsessive nature of the city. “People came to Chicago for jobs,” Fitzpatrick said. “I still walk by ‘Commercial’ and ‘Exchange’ Streets. It’s obvious what the developers had in mind when they came here.”
We brush past each other on the street, without acknowledgement — a backdrop of broken buildings and pigeons at our feet — and find that, through these portraitures of everyday life, there is beauty and, more importantly, complexity. Michigan Avenue is the city’s gilded path — a landmark of pristine sidewalks and manicured gardens. As much as a city can build itself, both architecturally and psychologically, it still has the unbearable capacity to break hearts. Carl Sandburg and Nelson Algren are obvious influences on Fitzpatrick. He enjoys the “sanguine and bitter taste” of Sandburg’s poetry, which accentuates the shape-shifting animal that Chicago will forever embody. Though he deals with weighty issues, Fitzpatrick maintains a sense of humor. “I remember when I was a kid, there was a guy at the fish market who looked like a fish,” he said. “So I etched him He had great big grouper lips. Chicago’s resolve and vivacity appears to inspire Fitzpatrick, though there’s no denying the blatant grime and toxicity of a city forever trying to stay ahead.
Tony Fitzpatrick’s “The City Etchings 1993-2003,” can be seen at The Architrouve until June 30th at 1433 West Chicago Avenue in Chicago. For more information, please visit www.thearchitrouve.com