Monthly Statement:
July 2006

*I will continue collecting soap indefinitely after the official ending of this project in September. If you are interested in contributing soap or stories to my continued efforts, please email jillgreenberg27@hotmail.com or mail slivers to the address at the bottom of this text.

I The Show Must Go On
The big event of July was my two-person show opening on the 6th at Bebe Benoliel Gallery on Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia. The city was pretty quiet because of the holiday, and I had a few days alone in the gallery to complete and install several pieces of my work (not all of which involved soap). I would arrange the slivers on the same black velvet-topped wood platform I made for my Baltimore show two months earlier, and I would still make a paisley pattern (see statement 4/06 for significance of the paisley motif,) but because the article in the Philadelphia Inquirer last May brought in scads of new donations, I knew it would look totally different—the slivers would more fully cover the base, which was about the size of a double bed. I complied with standard procedure for dealing with my abject fear of the proverbial blank canvas, employing every imaginable delaying tactic before plunging headlong into the task at the last conceivable minute. (For details of this essential step in the creative process, see monthly statement 5/06—the dance of avoidance remains the same, regardless of the accompanying music.) I admit, I had to cheat a bit in “drawing” the outlines of the two paisley shapes with the larger bars of soap—a few times, I found myself reaching out of the gallery window holding a piece of soap which I’d then scrape on the concrete window ledge until it had the right point at one end or the right angle along one side to create just the perfect contour. It was not until about 10 PM the night before the show opened that I was ready to start “coloring in” the paisley shaped outlines with the smaller slivers.

I don’t remember anything much about what I was doing for those hours other than buzzing on caffeine. All I knew was that the work just wasn’t going well. At 5 AM, standing back to see what had to be done next, I was confronted the horrible realization that the piece looked like CRAP. As in CA CA! And a wave of terror swept over me when I assessed the situation: the piece wasn’t done, the gallery was a mess, and the staff would be there in four short hours. I panicked. More than anything I wanted to curl myself up in a paisley position on the gallery floor and sob. But somewhere from deep beyond the heart of that panic arose a small but clear voice, the same as the one that comes to the guy whose buddy is pinned under the wreckage of his two-ton Silverado. It calmly instructs: “Just lift it up.” Only to me it said: “Just change something.” And I did. Then little by little I changed things until the piece fell into order. It was close enough to finished by the time the staff showed up that I felt assured that I would get to shower, brush my teeth and change clothes before the opening.

That evening, I remember talking about soap and life with a bunch of wonderful people who came to see the show. I met Jean Robinson, who had recently sent me a large collection of slivers that her deceased husband had saved during his life. (See statement 5/06 for a description of Jason Robinson—an interesting and accomplished man.) I also met Don Carter, a charming character with a booming voice, who told me a story about giving his father a set of Aramis cologne and soap for Father’s Day. His father died before the soap was used up, and Don retrieved it. It was a beautiful round piece of blue-gray soap that was so smooth it felt like a river stone in my hand. I was touched that he would choose to share this memento of his father with me, and I invited him to add it to the piece wherever he thought it should go. Don’s father is now the fourth person who is memorialized in this accumulation project, and I am honored to do so.

I was told that many of the gentlemen from the Ready Willing and Able residential program of the Doe Fund (see statements 11/05, 5/06, and 6/06), whom I had entrusted with the important mission of turning my large stash of fresh hotel soaps into slivers for the project, had plans to attend the opening. Unfortunately, I later learned that an important meeting came up and dashed their plans. This was disappointing, as I would have welcomed their presence and enjoyed chatting with them.

II And On and On
After the opening, my friends took me out for Mexican, and the Margaritas were most welcome. The next day, I headed up to Brooklyn for a second interview with Arianne Gelardin and Agnes Bolt, two producers working on the pilot episode of a podcast structured similarly to NPR’s “This American Life,” but with art related content. During the first interview in March we talked about all of the strange and amusing coincidences that had arisen from my pursuit of soap slivers. For this
interview they wanted to hone in on how the Accumulation Project has linked me to a Los Angeles artist who shares the name Jill Greenberg with me, among other uncanny similarities (see statements 1/06, 3/06, and 6/06.) They asked me to read the letter I had written introducing myself to my doppelganger, and then to read certain sections of January’s monthly statement in which the characters of Kristy and Doppelganger Jill join the ever-growing cast of this unlikely soap opera.
Three weeks later, it was time to de-install the show in Philadelphia. I learned that Dale Kinney, a Professor of Art History from Bryn Mawr College had come to the gallery the day before to see the soap sliver piece. She had inquired if she might obtain some digital images of it to present at a graduate seminar on Assemblage spring semester. So it looks like in my typical serendipitous fashion I have wandered into my 15 minutes of art historical significance.

Another message the gallery relayed to me was from Allison Mc Cool of Downingtown, PA who, upon visiting the show, asked how many slivers of soap were included in the piece. Knowing me all too well, the staff assured Allison that I was the type obsessive enough to have an exact sliver count. Embarrassingly, they were wrong, and I had to admit to Allison that I had absolutely no idea how many slivers I had collected to date. In a subsequent email, Allison told me that Lutheran World Relief, a charitable organization in Baltimore MD, “sends soap overseas to developing nations…The soap pieces are melted and fused into new bars.” I recently mailed the organization, and they have discontinued this practice, instead requesting that people send only new, wrapped bars. This made me wonder—is it possible to sterilize used soap when melting it down? At any rate, I emailed a photo of my installation in Philly to the woman who responded and told her to feel free to forward this and my contact information to anyone she thought might be interested in contributing to it. I get the word out whenever I can.
On my way out of town, I stopped by the Ready, Willing, and Able residential facility to pick up whatever soap slivers the gentlemen had produced. To my surprise, they presented me with a mother lode—and it wasn’t just the plain white slivers from the hotel soaps I had given them. There were blues and neon greens and even a precious pink or two—Many thanks for the support, guys! My soap dish runneth over.

July’s contributor/collaborators include:
The wonderful gentlemen of Ready Willing and Able, Philadelphia, PA; Brenda Byrne, Philadelphia, PA; Pat Klein, Cuyahoga Falls, OH; Faith Quintavell, Philadelphia, PA; Kitty Caparella, Philadelphia, PA Colleen Schreiber, Cherry Hill, NJ; Don Carter, Philadelphia, PA; Arianne Gelardin, Brooklyn, NY; Allison McCool, Downingtown, PA; Dale Kinney, Bryn Mawr College; Agnes Bolt, Brooklyn, NY; John J. Trause of Wood-Ridge, NJ

To contribute soap, you may mail it to:
Jill Greenberg
1440 E. Baltimore St. Apt. 3A
Baltimore, MD 21231

Padding or a small box is suggested for thin or delicate slivers.
Many thanks,
Jill

Feel free to email me at jillgreenberg27@hotmail.com if you wish to contribute soap slivers to the project or to send a comment.

Washington Post article available here.

Process: I will be accumulating remnants of used bars of soap by soliciting contributions through networks of friends and acquaintances. I am also looking into receiving donations through local hotels and collection boxes set up in various locales.