By Charlotte Lau
The entrance was a single metal door swung open, light drifting out from the staircase, illuminating the otherwise dim warehouse exterior. Situated inside a grungy building in Long Island City, Flux Factory was an unlikely place for an art gallery, where three flights of stairs up, the exhibition “Repeat After Me” was opening.The show featured artwork exploring the idea of self-replication, both on a viral, microscopic level and a human, macroscopic level. It is running until Jan. 28.Flux Factory can perhaps best be described as a community of artists who live, work and display their art in the same space. To use their own description of themselves, they are a “live-work non-profit mixed media arts organization.”Although “Repeat After Me” is merely hosted by the Flux Factory rather than produced or curated, two Fluxers – as they call themselves – are featured artists in the show and on opening night, a few other Flux members emerged from behind the cloth curtain (hiding several bedrooms and workspaces) to speak to the adoring public that slowly packed the large gallery.The Fluxers did not disappoint.Though not quite the stereotypical bohemian artists, their chatter (or, in some cases, lack thereof) gave the distinct impression that Flux was an institution of sardonic hilarity, experienced in the field of what Fluxer Kerry Downey called “organized chaos.”When asked what his vision of Flux's future might be, Anthony Rhoads, a Flux Factory resident, joked, “In a hole.”But many Fluxers described their lives as more work than play. “It's a really intense place to live,” said Ian Montgomery, a resident since 2004 and a featured artist in “Repeat After Me.” Although Fluxers are not always under tight deadlines, “there's almost always a Flux person inhouse working (on an upcoming exhibition),” he said. Motivation and productivity are never sparse and the result is contagious.In many instances, the Flux community bands together, all working to co-create and co-curate one massive installation.”The scale is very different,” Downey, Flux's project coordinator, explained of the organization's typical exhibitions. Gesturing to the gallery walls, she said “this is very compartmentalized in a way that most of our shows are not.”In May 2005, the not-for-profit organization received substantial attention from the press for its piece, “Novel: A Living Installation,” in which three authors lived in separate Flux-designed rooms, where each writer was to complete a novel over the next three weeks. Flux's upcoming project in March, entitled “Flux Box,” will feature a gigantic music box.”We tend to do a lot of elaborate building of worlds,” Flux Factory President Morgan Meis said.As Meis contended, these immense structures or “elaborate worlds” are in many ways akin to the live-work environment from which they are borne: Creative spaces, separate from the outer reality and tagged by the artistic visions of the resident Fluxers.However, the constant energy demanded in such a space may be compensated by the opportunity to be there – an opportunity created by the affordability of Flux housing.Similarly, being located in Long Island City has its rewards, according to Rhoads. “We have a complete openness to screw around and try new things [in Queens],” he said. Contrasting Manhattan-based initiatives' high rent and pressure to consistently produce critically acclaimed work with Flux's relative liberty, Rhoads said “it's more about the art. When people come out here, they come to really see what Flux is about.”Melding art and life, Flux seems to have made several attempts to reach out to its community, where it has been for more than four years.On the second Thursday of every month, Flux Factory holds a pot-luck of sorts, during which people not only socialize, but get an opportunity to share past projects or works in progress. Flux also runs a program for autistic people and holds tech initiatives. “One [theme] was 'Build Your Own Video Projector With Under $100,'” Rhoads said.Flux's location, however, is in peril. The organization's lease on its current building is running out and the Metropolitan Transit Authority is planning to tear the block down to build a railroad station, according to Meis.Although Flux will soon have to find another building, its ultimate goal is to buy a permanent space. “It's my dream of the next stage of things,” Meis explained. As for where Flux's final home might be, he said “since we've been in Queens, I really love Queens now,” he said. “But economics are economics.”With economics as the key word, a lot of Flux's goals hinge on the non-profit's ability to dig up more funds. Several Fluxers explained that the group has already been organizing itself to apply for grants. Additionally, on Feb. 4, the group plans to hold an art auction to raise more money toward its cause.If it is able to find enough support, Flux Factory's long-term plan would be to obtain a building, half of which it would share with other art initiatives. Along with having silkscreen facilities, a darkroom and other artistic spaces, Meis said he imagines that this building would become more integrated with its community; it might even include a cafe and bar. The other half of the building would be set aside as for-profit real estate, as a means to keep Flux afloat.However, both Meis and Downey acknowledged that these plans will not be realized overnight. Far from it, Meis said that this type of stability will probably not be possible for Flux until several years from now.Already Flux Factory has been running for more than 10 years, when it began in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Since then, it has undergone many changes – from its relocation to Queens in 2001 to its categorization as a non-profit in 1999, according to Meis.Ironically, the one thing that seems to have stayed constant is the appropriateness of the organization's name.”It's called Flux because it's in this perpetual transition,” Downey said. “You might hate it one week, but a week later, it'll be completely new. So you just ride the waves of moods and people who go through the place.”
