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Judith Hoffman
- Wayne State University Press
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JUDith Hoffman 176 Hoffman’s slipcovered used car sales office before being affected by the elements. (All Photos: Judith Hoffman) Artist Judith Hoffman’s contribution to Detroit exists only in photographs now. It was always supposed to be this way. Hoffman designed her work in Detroit to be destroyed: by the elements, by time. A New Yorker, Hoffman was invited to Detroit as a resident artist to pull off a project that on paper seemed too complex to be possible. Her vision: a one-to-one replica of a ten-thousand-square-foot gallery constructed completely out of paper in just one month. To be exact: four thousand pieces of royal-blue paper, carefully sewn together with a sewing machine as a slipcover for the gutsy little gallery that had once been the sales office of a popular Cadillac car lot. The cover was held in place by wooden posts, also painted blue. With a surgeon’s eye for precision, Hoffman attended to every detail. “Being someone who makes large-scale sculpture, I’m extremely concerned with the by-product of the sculpture. For me it’s important to consider the environment and to show what’s possible using materials that are inexpensive and accessible.” The type of paper was paramount. She chose school-grade paper. Hoffman, who also works frequently with fabrics, worried equally about choosing the right color. “I debated about color for a while.” Blue won out as a salute to the city’s sports teams and its legacy as a blue-collar city. The final phase of the piece entitled In Hoping We Find Ourselves, involved a time-lapse video, shot every five minutes, chronicling the course of the decay over a month’s time. Hoffman also put out a national call to artists for photographs that were projected directly onto the slipcover. “My work in a lot of ways tries to deal with creating a simultaneous sanctuary and decay,” she explained. “I think they’re always happening together; it’s just a question of whether we’re noticing. If I had one aim, that was really it—to inspire some response, a reason for people to notice.” 177 [3.236.101.52] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 12:47 GMT) 178 Hoffman, who is thirty-six, chuckles recalling the irony. “It was unexpected for sure, but it was just the perfect thing. I was so happy that he did that. It reinforced the idea of Detroit as a place where people may not have a lot of finances but they certainly have dedication and they do care. They really care.” So does Hoffman, it seems. She chooses her words slowly when asked about the city’s chances of becoming a nationally respected arts town. “In all of the United States, Detroit is my favorite place. I love, love it. People absolutely want to support the arts.” Excitement about art, she says, greeted her everywhere and colored her perception about the city that she’d never visited until art opened the door. “There is this real oasis thing happening because of cheap real estate. But I don’t know if, as an artist, you can have a viable living in Detroit long-term. I’d like to believe it’s possible because I’d love to come back. There’s certainly enough happening to keep you hopeful that opportunities for artists will last.” Hoffman surpassed her aim. Three weeks into the project’s opening, as the cover was beginning to shred and “look like trash on a building,” a janitor from a nearby business took notice in a most extreme way. He wiped the building clean, removing all traces of her work 179 It took four thousand pieces of blue paper to assemble the slipcover. Here they are ready to be pieced together. (Photos: Judith Hoffman) ...