One of the most difficult parts of working independently, whether that’s solo or as an entity, is that it’s difficult to gauge whether or not what you’re doing has any impact or real interest outside your already-supportive niche. So when you get to really geek out with a whole bunch of people who’re also doing their own thing, and it’s somewhat similar to what you’ve got going on, the extreme boost of enthusiasm can be just the fuel to keep you ambitious and engaged in your project. This is what I love most about Chicago’s Version Festival, an annual amalgam of arts engagement of all sorts.

This year’s theme is Community, and I was there repping good ol’ ReadyMade and chatting up all manner of artists, makers, organizers, gallerists, publishers, and generally curious folks for opening weekend. This was a combo of an art exhibition of “emerging” local artists (though that term is relative to whom you’re talking to—some of those people, to me, have already busted out of their cocoons) called the New New Chicagoans, and also a massive fair of independent arts-based co-operatives and individuals.

Version Festival head honcho Ed Marszewski (above, with his wife and festival co-conspirator, Rachael) is one of the best enablers I know out there, for better and, as I’ve experienced in 13 years of knowing him, definitely for worse. He’s the kind of guy who says, “You’re doing that? On your own? You’re insane, I love it!” And some amazingly imaginative genius and real shift in local systems has come as a result (when hundreds of people organized into ragtag military units and staged a marching “attack “on one of the city’s stale, blue-chip arts festivals), as well as some questionable activity (like the time a Latvian artist rigged an ill-fitting homemade eel skin bustier to projectile lactate on passers-by near the Cultural Center). As the festival has expanded, shifted, and happily mellowed out over the last 11 years of its existence, the focus has changed from completely radical, often confrontational works to total inclusivity.

And that’s the kind of thing that helps a community of independents the most: baring it all and seeing what truly works. The boosterism is in high effect, so no one’s going to rip on you for sub-par aesthetics, and the social politics are at a minimum. Still, you get to see how people truly react to what you’re doing in a “safe space.” Maybe if you don’t get as much attention as you see others getting, it’s because your timing’s off—you’re either too far ahead or too far behind—or maybe it’s because your product doesn’t fit the audience. Or simply, and it hurts the most to admit it to yourself, it’s just not that good and it’s time to go back to the drawing board. On the other hand, maybe if you’re selling stuff like hotcakes and having elucidating conversations right and left, it’s exactly the confirmation and validation you needed.

In any case, the opportunity to share ideas, methodology, projects, and wares with peers and a truly curious audience is an experience not to be taken lightly. Yet somehow Version still toes that line between serious gratitude for co-prosperity and playful frivolity. On one hand you've got the serious panel discussions on visual arts advocacy and vigils for youth violence; on the other, all the late-night parties are happening in a basement that's been decked out to look like the bar from Police Academy. It’s different from itself every single year, and still has its own identity. There is no other festival like it.

See slideshows of New New Chicagoans here and MDW Fair here. 

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