by Lauren Quinn and Theo K. Auer

It's a typical First Friday on Grand Avenue, and its two main art galleries swell in a coruscating dance of the committed, dilettante and otherwise virgin. At its unofficial epicenter, at 23rd Street and Telegraph Avenue, "The Art Murmur" has become an alternately over- and underwhelming cacophonus clamor. Open alcohol consumption is curtailed by security guards hired by area galleries. On Grand and Broadway, however, the event looks a little wilder. With just two dedicated galleries, The Front Gallery and Mercury Twenty, this art corridor has, for several years, helped maintain the promise past galleries, like 21 Grand and 33 Grand, once held. Come next month's Art Murmur, however, the block's artistic pursuits will have faded to a subtle hinting at potentials: lost, fulfilled and as yet unmet.

Why? Both anchor galleries have been forced to leave, pushed out by rising rents and short leases. A distinct cavity will be left in the local art community as the galleries' closing invokes a weary cliche: Gentrification. As one of the most rapidly developing areas in Oakland, the Uptown district sits perched between commercial success and cultural vibrancy. For the last decade, the neighborhood has served as ground-zero for the Oakland arts scene, which played a key role in its revitalization. Galleries here have attracted wide acclaim--and the attention of developers. And now these galleries have fallen victim to the success they helped create.

Mercury Twenty and Front Gallery were located nearly side-by-side on Grand and Broadway, in what landlord Shahla Davoudi calls "one of the best areas in Oakland, and in the whole Bay Area." When the galleries opened four and five years ago (respectively), there was no Pican, no condos, no Starbucks. Rumors of Starbucks imminent arrival were mocked at one gallery, Keys That Fit, which placed a "Starbucks coming soon" sign in windows. Front Gallery "was one of the few places that showed signs of life in the neighborhood," gallerist Bob Jew remembers.

Davoudi had been careful in selecting tenants. "I kept the spaces empty for a long time. I wanted to find the right tenants for the right place, tenants that would to bring value to the neighborhood." Despite this stated purpose, the art spaces Davoudi brought in were subject to short leases that left room for rent increases. Celebrated experimental music venue and artspace 21 Grand was first housed on the block, but chose to leave due after being entangled in a legally iffy sublease agreement just prior to the current landlord taking on the property.

It wasn't just the flow of alcohol at openings that set these galleries apart from others in the area; both sought to bring Oakland artists together with atypical approaches. Opening in August 2006, Mercury Twenty has been unique to the area as a collective, composed of twenty East Bay artists committed to Oakland arts. Members exhibit multiple shows throughout the year, and participate in all aspects of running the gallery. A photography-studio-cum-gallery, Front Gallery showcased politically provocative photography and prints, as well as regularly working with guest curators like John Casey and Alex Munn, as gallerist Bob Jew made an effort to "...stay away from the MFA trap where gallerists would tend to just show their friends from school and whatever was going around that they thought was cool." These exhibitions cemented them as a routine stop on the First Friday crawl, garnering them a sizable following.

"[The neighborhood has] become a lot more commercial, which is good in that it brings more people out to see the work, but not good when it makes our costs rise," says Kathy King of Mercury Twenty. The market rate for both spaces has increased. Front Gallery's lease was up in January and Mercury Twenty, never signed to a lease, is moving due to construction to the building--cost increases also lurk behind this rationale.

Mercury Twenty's Kathleen King has termed it thusly: "We are officially relocating to make way for electrical upgrades that will reconfigure the space and make it unusable for the gallery." According to Davoudi, these upgrades have been planned for years, but have been held up by the "... paperwork and bureaucratic processes of the City." Having exchanged a purported 50 emails, Davoudi has "tried to keep the gallery" and work the situation out "in the best possible way." Although she referred to Mercury Twenty as "Century Twenty" during our interview, Davoudi professes to be committed to the galleries and an art fan herself. "I love galleries; I love art," Davoudi says. "I don't want to lose the galleries."

She's indeed made offers, but with some catches. As is the case with so many "redevelopment" rationales, the current tenants have been given the option to return to the space post-construction, but at an increased rent unaffordable to the small gallery. Post-construction, Davoudi will charge the gallery additional rent for a mezzanine space the gallery had once subletted to Chandra Cerrito Contemporary, providing a modest though much-needed source of revenue. Davoudi has also offered Mercury Twenty the now-vacated space where Front Gallery was once housed, but at a rate $1000 above what Front Gallery paid. "Art spaces like ours," Kathy King explains, "depend on reduced rent." Unable to pay what has been offered, Mercury Twenty is packing up and planning to continue at a new space in the neighborhood.

Front Gallery's dealings with Davoudi were laced with more tension. According to Bob Jew, Front Gallery was purposefully evicted; far from an aberration, he views this as a trend in Davoudi's rental strategy. "She likes to rent to artists and gives them short leases to fix up her spaces and then she finds ways to kick them out. In the case of 33 Grand and Industrielle, she raised the rent high enough after their short leases ran out that they couldn't afford to stay... In my case, it was years of harassment with all kinds of accusations about what a bad tenant I was."

What Jew describes is a common pattern in gentrifying neighborhoods: artists, activists and community groups move in, put the area on the map, and are pushed out to make room for bigger businesses that can pay higher rents. Grand and Broadway is no longer the sleepy strip it was when Jew moved in; Front Gallery played a significant role in attracting foot traffic and cup-clutching art goers. And now that business is booming, as sidewalks fill with valet attendants and restaurant denizens, the gallery that helped make the intersection cool can no longer keep up.

In regards to Bob Jew and Front Gallery, Davoudi hastens to add: "I didn't close the gallery. The lease was over. Bob Jew spent most of his time out of the country, and the gallery was closed most of the time. I didn't close that gallery." Contrary to her account, based upon much laudatory press, Front Gallery was more than a part-time pursuit, and Jew's international travels took the form of yearly, three-week, photography-related breaks in Mexico.

A former tenant on the block, just before Davoudi acquired the property, 21 Grand's Darren Jenkins is "not surprised… hearing what [Davoudi] did upon buying the building. She wanted to get new tenants in market rate. She just treating it like a cut-throat property owner, that’s all. Her expectations about what people can pay in rent versus what kind of money a business can make is what is at issue here, basically.” With luxury condominium towers sprouting up and destination restaurants--and now, a nightclub--opening, a low-return, labor-of-love art gallery can't compete with the rents more profitable businesses can pay, and that the neighborhood now demands.

Uptown mover-and-shaker Tim Martinez has seen the phenomenon play out in the area for years, and understands the complexity of the situation. "It's a Catch-22. When you're a building owner, I understand you would at least like to be getting market rate for your spaces."

Martinez worked with landlord Haig Mardikian and property manager Roderick Kirakauf to open Papa Buzz Cafe and Gallery, and helped bring in tenants like Ego Park Gallery and Bloom Screenprinting, who served as the nucleus of a burgeoning art corridor at 23rd St. and Telegraph Avenue. "Haig was looking to combine a desire to support the arts with mutually beneficial goal of redevelopment."

For one block of Grand Ave, though, these words come too late. Front Gallery is closed indefinitely, as Bob Jew takes time out to plan his next move. Determined to survive, Mercury Twenty continues to look for a new space; one week after we conducted our interview with Davoudi, the landlord offered to give the gallery another month at the current rate to allow them ample time to find a new space. "The space is just the space," says Kathy King. As for the block, a new nightclub Era will be opening, a beautifully designed space that holds the palpable promise of being the model club-slash-gallery which could anchor a nightlife district, much like the now venerable 111 Minna in San Francisco. But no dedicated art gallery will remain, and the likelihood of another is slim.

February's Art Murmur offered much, but come March the intersection at Grand and Broadway will be missing two of its longer-lived art spaces. Art goers will meet on the main drag, filling the sidewalk with chatter. But, on this block, a "For Lease" sign will stare out at the passing traffic from where the galleries once stood.

About Lauren Quinn

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