 A Year, More or Less: Early AS220
Empty Space: Where do ideas come from?
The concept of AS220 was the result of a core group of artists’ dissatisfaction with the status quo. The providence art scene, as virtually everywhere, had been held hostage by the whims of a small group of gallery owners and “scholarly” art associations who felt empowered to define art in accordance with their own personal tastes and preferences thereby creating an atmosphere where the mundane and familiar were rewarded and originality was treated as a threat to the establishment. [The problem was] if they didn’t like or understand an artist, then he had little chance of reaching the public. The need was clear; there should be a public venue consisting of a gallery, and a performance space that would be free and unjuried, available to any artist or performer regardless of background, education or political affiliation. In the spring of 1982 a Manifesto Known as “The New Challenge” was published in the now defunct Providence Eagle [April 14, 1982]. It was signed by Steven Emma, Martha Dempster and Umberto Crenca. This document articulated the founding principle upon which AS220 was modeled, “Art must be allowed to flourish unhampered because Art is one of the last areas of culture where Man defines his Spirit”.
Art Space
The embryonic stages of AS220’s development occurred in a group of rooms and corridor; a long way from the elevator, on the largely abandoned third floor of the Providence Performing Arts Center on Weybossett St.
On the street above the door was the number 220. Someone had found the old A frame chalkboard that a forgotten restaurant once used to advertise the daily special. On it was written some reference to “Beatniks”, an invitation to “Discover AS220” and the directions “Up to the third floor, left off the elevator, second right, right, left, right, down hall.”
AS220 was a large room, overlooking Weybossett from the third floor. There were a few overstuffed chairs and a couch or two and an unwanted piano that someone had donated. Off the main room were the coffee bar and maybe one or two studios. The only heat provided in the building was to keep the water pipes from freezing.
The coffee brewers and light bulbs didn’t help much. Everyone ignored the cold.
Already AS220 had become a successful rendezvous for the “Tragically Hip”. Artist and performers gravitated serendipitously to the space. People gathered and shared coffee,
ideas, stories and craft. Bands were created; theater groups were born.
At that time the only revenue to AS220 was the “a pass of the hat” and the “donations” collected for the coffee that was free and the only beverage available.
Alternate Space
Sometime in the spring, there was a great buzz about the new space on Richmond St.
One evening, just after dark, a group of us walked over to view the second floor of 72 Richmond St.; it was a total wreck! In the darkness, aided by one or two flashlights, we could see the debris and dust of long forgotten jewelry shops and storage areas, hobo abodes and pigeon droppings; no running water, no lights.
I found a fuse box in one of the rooms and went back to my van to get some fuses. When I screwed them into the fuse box the lights came on or at least enough of them to be the cause of great celebration. It seemed the gods were smiling on AS220! Now we could really see the mess we had gotten into.
Over the next several weeks, the rubble was cleared. The electrical system evolved, a plug here a light there, as needed. A new water line was brought up from the basement, which was flooded with two or tree feet of brackish water. A few of us staked out “Studio” spaces on the fringe of AS220 proper. We developed a formula based on the total square footage of space occupied by AS220 and its satellite studios. We all paid the same rate per square foot, including AS220. If AS220 finished the month in deficit, [and it always did] the residents would equally divide that deficit and pay it. It was not a loan or an investment. It was a love offering to a cause in which we all fervently believed.
To actually live in the studios would have been a violation of the numerous Zoning and Fire Codes that regulate the Downtown Area; let’s just say that 72 Richmond St. was awake and a hotbed of activity twenty-four hours a day.
One of the main advantages of the Richmond site was its accessibility to the sidewalk; just straight up two flights of graffiti walled stairs and you were there.
Back on the sidewalk, the trusty A-Frame Chalkboard pointed out the now flat black entrance, both the former and the latter adorned with the chalked ornamentations of a well-known local artist and news of what might be “happening at AS220”.
Over time the chalkboard art of Peter Boyle covered any unoccupied storefront on the block. A vintage clothing shop opened across the street adding to the attraction of the block. Pied Piper Productions, who brought several hardcore shows to AS220 was adjacent to the vintage clothing shop.
During that same summer, the club tentatively named The Garage opened as Club
Rocket, later to be known as Club Baby Head, beneath AS220, on the ground floor.
One evening the host of a local college radio show, whose program had been banned as a result of some sophomoric power struggle at the radio station, wandered into AS220. As with any visitor we explained the intent and philosophy of the fledgling group. I played some recordings of my own musical invention during the conversation. He seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the space and its goals.
A few days later I got a call from Neville of “The Noise from Neville Show”
“I’m back on the air” he said to me, “I want to have your band on this Saturday.”
I pointed out that I didn’t really have a band and that most of my work was on muli-track or completely improvisational.
“Today’s Wednesday, that gives you two whole days to get a band together.”
I accepted.
Umberto and I had been well received as an improvisational electro/acoustic duo playing at a couple of art openings at the now defunct Bristol Art Museum. I offered to Umberto that we could play this radio station thing. He suggested that we include the other core members of AS220, and so that Saturday we appeared on the radio as “The artist troupe from AS220, Astrolabe” This was the first of many improvisational groups to spring from AS220, “Meat Ball Fluxus” being just one more.
The group consisted of Susan Claussen; Gina Risica, Manny Pombo, Umberto Crenca and myself. We played four or five musical pieces that we had discussed but never really rehearsed. There were a few segments of live interview as Umberto detailed the philosophy on which AS220 was founded.
The radio show was instrumental, informing the public of our existence and intentions, not only because of that first appearance but also because of what happen later.
After the exhilaration of a live broadcast there is, for some of us, a let down, a sudden drop in endorphins as if crashing from some meth-like substance. I knew I was hooked on live radio. I volunteered that I would help with the engineering/production of the show if need be. Before very long I was doing just that, solo. Every Saturday, three to six P.M., Neville played his “Thousands of tapes from all over the world.” While I learned about broadcast engineering as fast as I could. [Sorry to anybody who didn’t like a particular broadcast.]
AS220, The Noise from Neville Show and Club Rocket attracted bands both locally and far a field. Whenever we booked a band for the radio show we would try to coordinate an appearance at AS220 or Club Rocket that same weekend. This co-operation benefited all parties concerned.
Artists and performers from as far away as Italy, Germany, the U.K. and Japan performed or exhibited at AS220 that first year. The Rhode Island State Council of the Arts began to see AS220 as a serious entity. Artist and bands waited weeks for a show at The Space. We had a real snack bar and a telephone.
Whenever AS220, the organization needed something, there invariably stepped forward someone who would fulfill that need. One night as we watched a performance from the snack bar Bert mentioned that a stage would be great for performance but it would interfere with exhibitions. Portable, folding stages were so expensive and seemed out of our reach. Half joking, I said “Don’t worry, I think its on its way”. Within three days a group of musicians dropped in. They were moving out of town and wondered if we could use a portable, folding stage.
Spaced Out
All this happened over twenty years ago. No doubt, there are many interesting details and sub plots that are not covered in this article. During my year, more or less, of being at AS220, I served as Audio Arts Director, Liaison to WRIU Radio, handy man, procurer of that which was needed and Treasurer. We were all willing to do whatever was needed because we believed that AS220 was a concept that should endure. There were others who gave as much and more. I consider it my great privilege to have been present in those early days.
Ed Talbot, December,2006
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