Todd Jannausch is a Seattle artist and craftsman with one of the best coifs in the city. He recently put together two detailed projects: “Gallery 206” and “Small Voids”. Gallery 206, a re-appropriated phone booth showing off the work of 206 Seattle artists (206 is the Seattle area code), went up about two years ago in downtown Seattle. Small Voids, a show featuring 100 individual pieces, which he mounted and displayed along the streets of three cities: Portland, Oakland and Seattle, hung earlier this year. The Monarch Review had the chance to chat with Todd about his work: 

JU: Small Voids. Why did you do it?

TJ: That’s a pretty loaded question with a lot of layers; I’m not sure how to answer it… Small Voids was the continuation of a series of installations I had been working on that tried to create new types of interactions by changing the context in which we view art. That’s the basis for the work but I don’t know if that really answers the “why” question.

JU: How did you come to the idea of so many one-piece works distributed throughout a city?

TJ: I always have an end result in mind before I start working towards a project. I knew I wanted to turn a city street in to an art gallery. I think I’m always interested in creating interactions, in trying to figure out ways to affect an experience by changing the context that surround it.

When I was working on Small Voids I wanted the artwork I would be showing to be the whole project. I wanted to find a way to strip away everything except for the art. I wanted to involve as many artists as I could and I wanted to find a way to take their work outside of Seattle to do shows in Portland and Oakland. The project would need to be installed and broken down easily on a public street without being permanently attached to anything but would also have to protect all of the artwork. Most importantly it would have to be built on a shoestring budget. So the constraints end up dictating the project.

My wife Chandler and I had been talking about fireflies and their ability to impact a night sky. I liked the idea of making the smallness of something the impact, what actually makes it big.

JU: You live in Seattle, but took the show to two other cities. What was it like for you to be out of context in that way?

TJ: It was a real change. All of the shows took place during each city’s Art Walk but I hadn’t really taken in consideration how different they would be. Both Portland and Oakland shut down a few blocks during their Art Walk so everyone can get out in the streets. It’s livelier and there’s a lot of action everywhere so I think sometimes it took longer for people to realize what was happening. I got to watch folks as they walked down the street and as they passed the first few, they would slow down for a second, they would go a little further and stop and then at some point they would look around and realize how many lit boxes there were. Some people got hooked and went back the way they had come to start over again looking at every single piece. It was great.

The different atmosphere of the events meant people also physically interacted with the art more. Sometimes in the crowd, people wouldn’t see the clear boxes surrounding the art and nearly run in to them, and the work was definitely handled more. So I was more anxious. I worried a lot about the work getting damaged or even taken but it all worked out fine.

JU: Is there something specific you hoped to notice in the people?

TJ: No not really, I mean the anticipation of what the interaction will be like is the really exciting part. I never know what is going to happen. With my projects I haven’t ever really had permits or asked permission and I think I have always feared or expected the worst-case scenario. Instead, I have always found the exact opposite.

JU: Can you explain the process you went through with Gallery 206? What was your biggest fear? What was the best thing to come from it?

TJ: I think that Seattle is an amazing city in terms of its art community. There is so much support and collaboration amongst artists in this city and I really wanted to honor that. So I got a phone booth and stripped it out and started rebuilding it. I wanted every inch of it dedicated to Seattle artists, the windows, the phone, the book the lights – if there was a way to incorporate art I wanted to do it. I used the Seattle area code (206) as sort of a bench mark, I wanted to see if I could involve at least that many artists.

I initially asked twenty artists for original pieces of work to make up the windows, the light installation in the overhead, and the audio installation in the phone. Then I asked each of them to give me a list of 10 names of artists that they liked and respected in the community and I used that list as the basis for the phonebook. It became a sort of community curation that resulted in a new phonebook containing the work of 206 incredible artists.

My biggest fear came during the guerrilla installation we did at the Seattle Art Museum on Christmas Eve. We installed Gallery (206) underneath the Hammering Man with a big red bow and stocking filled with candy canes and a holiday card addressed to the SAM. The whole thing was absolutely sincere, too. I really was offering it to them as a gift. I said that they could keep it or perhaps auction it off and donate the proceeds to the SAM but most importantly I asked if they would keep it up through the holidays as a show of support to our local arts community. I was definitely nervous about getting busted during the install but also about the SAM misunderstanding what I was trying to do. In the end, everything worked out great. They let it stay in front of the museum for two weeks through the holidays, which I thought was really generous.

The best thing to come from it, for me, was that in all the time it has been displayed in the public, initially two months in Occidental Park and then the SAM install and even now as it resides at Ghost Gallery here in Seattle, it has never been vandalized in any way. I mean I really think that says a lot about how important art is to our community.

JU: You recently became a father – how has that changed you as an artist, or curator?

TJ: I think that every big life change affects how you see the world and how you interact with it and I can’t imagine a bigger or better life change than my becoming a father. My wife Chandler and I have always agreed that art is woven into our lives – it is not something we do, it is a way approaching the world. So it’s hugely important to us as a way to communicate with each other and with our son. 
I don’t know how being a Dad will influence the things I make, maybe it’s to early to know, or maybe I am just too close to it to understand. Truthfully, at this point I am having too much fun to care.

JU: I imagine you’re still tinkering in the workshop though, no?

TJ: Oh for sure, I started working on some new stuff eight or nine months ago that I will be showing in November at Method Gallery, here in Seattle. It’s a series of sculptures. I don’t want to say too much about the work at this point because it is still finding its way, but it has been really fun to work on something totally new.

JU: You used to live at The Monarch Apartments. How has the building influenced your work?

TJ: When I moved into The Monarch, I had just come through a really difficult period in my life. Everyone living there then was super tight and there was such a sense of community to the place. There were, and still are, so many talented people living there, mostly musicians and writers, so the stoop out front was one of the best hangs in the city.

There was always some great music going on. There was just so much camaraderie to the place. We used to have these great Sunday breakfasts that went on all day. Everyone would pile into this one apartment and just hang out, play music or cards, and debate and bullshit all day. 
It was a hugely influential time in my life. If it wasn’t for The Monarch and all of the people I met there, I don’t think any of my installations would have happened. It was some of the best times of my life.