I’m not much of a hostess. I rarely have more than a few friends over at a time, let alone throw parties. But last week I invited a dozen people to my home to attend what one of my guests labeled “a focus group for art.”

In my previous column, I wrote about blogging as a way of documenting the progression of a body of work. I’m developing a multimedia exhibit with my colleague Michael Chladil, and we found that a blog was helpful as a virtual “box” into which we could gather our sound and video samples, sketches and notes. As the blog grew, it became clear that we also needed to experience the exhibit’s elements in the physical world, where they will interrelate with people and space. So I decided to have a prototype party.

The guest list: At first I thought of this event as a crit group. But a crit is typically made up of artists who speak the same visual language. What I needed was a representation of the audience I expected at the exhibit, that is, one that was not limited to the art world.

I also decided to invite people with whom I feel comfortable. At this vulnerable stage of development, the last thing I needed was to worry about impressing anyone. Yes, I wanted serious feedback, but by treating this as a party (i.e., wine, snacks and socializing), I could allow myself a more playful attitude.

Setting up: The benefits of presenting our work-in-progress started way before the guests arrived. The question, “What should we show?” was daunting in itself. First, we had to deter­mine where we most needed feedback. Then we had to com­pose enough elements to be representative of the “real” exhibit.

The exhibit, titled Overheard, will consist of projected text and audio that fill the gallery in varying degrees, from minimal to cacophonous. For our party, we borrowed an assortment of projectors, speakers and video monitors. Michael also set up his Rope&Pulley, an interactive system he designed and built for manipulating aural and visual digital content. As we prepared for the showing, we uncovered questions for the actual exhibit: Will the gallery’s projectors throw a big enough image? How many conversations should we include? How much should be scripted, and how much interactive?

The showing: For our exhibition, we intend to surround visitors with changing and overlapping sounds and images. But because we only had a subset of equipment for the party, we presented the elements sequentially. First, we projected, on one wall, a series of typographic phrases with accompanying voices. Not good. Instead of being in an immersive experience, our guests essentially watched a slide show.

Next, we asked our guests to interact with the Rope&Pulley to create their own juxtapositions of typography and sound. Our goal was to test classic elements of user interface design. What is obvious? What is confusing? The software ran perfectly, but we had not anticipated the confusion the content would cause. For example, I had purposely included empty visual and aural gaps; to me, they were meaningful pauses, but they left our guests, literally, in the dark.

What the work is about: When you are deeply involved in a project, your sketches and notes may be vague and hazy, and although they make sense to you and your colleagues, they may be indecipherable to anyone else. When you attempt to translate your ideas into a tangible form for an audience, you begin to see if your intention is clear. You also become aware of meanings or connotations in the work that you had missed.

Our exhibit’s content is based on overheard mobile phone conver­sations that I’ve collected in midtown Manhattan over several years. The conversations range from the mundane to the dra­matic, and from local accents to foreign ones. The guests at our party had strong opinions. Some wanted more entertainment, while others preferred the quotidian. Some guests wanted more diversity in the voices; others wanted longer narratives.

The value of my friend’ preferences was not in helping me to choose between drama and mundane, or diversity and narrative. Instead, their debates made me look harder at my own intentions. What am I trying to convey?

I have often said that when you develop a body of work as an artist, you strive to achieve a balance between the early, fluid state of experimentation and the drive towards a finished product. By exposing and articulating your ideas midway, you have time to take advantage of unexpected and fresh per­spectives. If I decide to have another event, maybe I should call it a surprise party. CA

^{© 2009 W. Richmond}

Editor’s note:  Wendy’s new book Art without Compromise* is published by Allworth Press.