Proteus Gowanus: The Old Man of the Canal

Proteus the Greek God of the Sea and Proteus Gowanus are both examples of the importance of change and transformation. Proteus the deity was known for changing his form and Proteus Gowanus changes its artistic theme every year. But the arts space by the storied canal always operates under the same principle ­– to provide an all-inclusive arts and learning space.

Proteus Gowanus doesn't rule from underneath a body of water like the Greek God did, but from above one – the Gowanus Canal, which is a significant source of inspiration for much of what happens there.

Proteus is actually a collection of several different organizations. It's not really a gallery, not really a learning center, not exactly a study hall – but rather all three. It's also a library and a museum. But everything is for sale.

There's the Gallery of the Gowanus, where one can find, among other things, what looks like a large cookie jar filled almost halfway with brown sludge. (It's actually a specimen lifted from the bottom of the Canal. Watch out, !)

There is also the Observatory Room, or main hall of Proteus. This room may as well be called the Study Hall, because people come together there to work on MacBooks, possibly writing papers about photographic techonology during the decade of the Apollo Space Voyage, or perhaps the history of the flora and fauna of New York City.

The main room is also where the director's desk is. Surrounded by her own "artifacts" – post-it notes, brochures, pens, pencils, you name it – she's a welcoming sight. Clearly quite at home and cozy in her “office,” she is softpoken as she welcomes visitors; she personifies what Proteus is all about.

Proteus, explained director Tamara Pittman, is a space where no one feels alienated, or like they have to fit in as an artist. 

Founded in part by artist Sasha Chavchavadze as an art project about 5 years ago, Proteus is a place "where artists would feel comfortable and welcome," said Pittman.

It's "not one of these white box kind of spaces where everone feels judged the minute they walk in the door," she added.

The exhibits at Proteus are based around a single theme, which changes annually, and runs from September to July. All mediums are represented, from sculpture to photography, graphic art to architecture. This year's theme is Paradise, and artists are instructed to submit their own interpretation of the term.

Previous themes were Transport, Play, and Mend. Out of Mend came one of Proteus' continuing projects, the . A group gathers in a small room and performs what Pittman refers to as “improvisational fixing.” Participants bring everything from umbrellas to computer screens and work as a group to fix the items. No experience is necessary, but an appreciation of teamwork and manual labor is key.

Proteus is ever-evolving. Like The Fixer's Collective, the Reanimation Library was also borne of a past exhibition. It functions to some extent as a public library, but with a twist; the selection is comparatively limited, but boasts a generous and unique selection of publications garnered from various sources, including thrift stores, private sales and "throw-away" piles from all over the country.

A large part of this ever-evolution stems from the desire to maintain Proteus not just as an art space, but as a place where different areas of study bounce back and forth between each other and influence each other, coexisting peacefully and, in ways, even relying on each other.

"When we look at our themes and explore them, we invite scientists and mathematicians and historians, and architects... and all kinds of other people to join in, because that's what's inspiring to artists, and art is inspiring to those people in other discipines," said Pittman.

The Hall of the Gowanus is another example of the interdisciplinary approach, having been inspired by an interest in artifacts from the canal and having grown over the years to a mini-museum.

“The most interesting thing is when you can get that cross-fertilization," said Pittman. “That's an important part of what Proteus is about."

Pittman talks about Proteus Gowanus at times very matter-of-factly, but it's apparent in her tone that for her as well as its founders, it's an ongoing labor of love – a place that is always growing, always improving and always bringing more and more to the community.

Originally hailing from Washington D.C. and now residing in Prospect Heights, Pittman, who has a background in the non-profit and social services industries as well as art, says she became "enamored" with Proteus and all its possibilities soon after she became involved.

"I kind of came here and got stuck," she said. "In a good way."

Proteus Gowanus' Paradise is no Mount Olympus, and a turn of the century box factory in Brooklyn hardly seems like the setting for any kind of divine intervention. But here, mere mortals combine creative forces, and a different kind of supernaturalism occurs; one that can only come about as the result of positive energy and collaboration.

It's not hard to imagine that somewhere, under the sea, Proteus, the god, is nodding in approval.