I'm saddened by the news that Tim Rollins has died at the far too young age of 62. His work with Kids of Survival (and before that, with Group Material) was always something to think about, celebrate, challenge, and wrestle with. A big regret I have from undergrad was being invited to a dinner with him by one of my professors and saying no, because I hadn't done the work to learn who he was and I'm not even sure I attended his lecture. So stupid. Later I was at least fortunate enough to hear him speak a couple times in Chicago.
Today I am at Harold Washington Library, where their Chicago Authors Room features thirty-two works on paper by Tim Rollins and K.O.S. The piece is titled "AMERIKA - FOR THE AUTHORS OF CHICAGO" (1990-91). I gave a lecture on Public Collectors in this room several years ago. It's a special space. You can see into it through the glass doors, but it's normally kept locked.
I approached the security guard that is stationed at a desk just outside the room and asked if it was open. He said no. I said, "The artist that made the artwork in this room just died, and I'd like to pay my respects. Is it possible to unlock it for just a few minutes?" Still the answer was a quick no. He could have at least checked with someone, and the library couldn't possibly be less busy on this freezing day, but he didn't. I was angry. I walked away, but didn't want to let this pass. I walked around the room and took a photo through the glass doors on the other side, but was still irritated.
After taking a minute to chill out, I went back to the 7th floor and approached a friendly and receptive librarian named Sandra. I explained the situation, and the importance of Harold Washington Library having this work permanently installed. We looked at Tim Rollins' obituary which is up on Art News' website and the example they chose to illustrate his work looks very similar to the smaller works in the library's collection.
After consulting with someone else on staff, Sandra returned, grabbed the key, and was kind enough to unlock the door for me and let me have about ten minutes with the work by myself. I was a little sorry that the guard had moved from his post during this time - not because I felt like I wanted to rub it in (okay, maybe a little bit), but because he should know that this work is treasured and this life and collaboration should be celebrated.
My hope is that now that I've made a couple librarians aware of Tim Rollins' passing, they'll be able to keep the room open for public viewing beyond the sporadic events that are held in this space. It's a beautiful thing to see, and one of the more considerable art projects in a building that is filled with art on every floor.