Written by Nora Cazenave
Photos by Nora Cazenave and William Park
“The idea of UAS is that we want to deal with, you know, how do you put on a show on your own? How do you create art with your friends? How do you think about art as an object that can be sold? If anyone is frustrated with applying to all of these things and trying to get into shows and get their art seen by other artists, this is the place for that.”
I’m standing outside Caffeine Underground in Bushwick with Mac Jackson and Victoria Reshetnikov, the organizers of What the Fuck is Wrong With You — the Useless Art Society’s new show, who have agreed to speak with me. Mac is telling me about why they founded Useless Art Society (UAS). Inside, a small band plays at the back of the crowded space. The decor is quirky and eclectic—even the bathroom is covered in colorful, Hungarian-esque graffiti—and the space is lit with a purple glow.
Outside, a cozy group of friends and acquaintances drift in and out of the uncharacteristically warm night air, looking for cigarettes, laughing, and catching up, all in a steady orbit around Victoria and Mac. Just my presence there seems to indicate that I am part of that orbit, and I enjoy the social atmosphere and easy conversation. A number of people come over to chat mid-interview, all of whom seem vaguely related to UAS in some way, and who approach me with a striking familiarity and candor.
This is the group’s fourth show, but the first to be held off of Columbia’s campus, indicating a new direction for the group. Mac first came across Caffeine Underground after spending weeks combing through Reddit in search of a venue. “Ian, the owner of this place, rules, and was super kind and easy to work with and let us show our art for free.”
UAS was founded during the pandemic by Mac and Carlos Sánchez-Tatá, as the two artists navigated Columbia’s bureaucratic barriers and competitive student groups. While most of the show’s attendants are Columbia students, holding What the Fuck is Wrong With You off campus is the group’s first step in broadening its reach. “A lot of the art clubs had application processes and weren’t focused on making art…Since the idea from the start was building an art community, we wanted to keep it and take it with us. We kind of gave up on having it affiliated officially with Columbia, and that’s why we tried to find a space [for this show] that was outside Manhattan.”
Despite the group’s loose structure and emphasis on collectivity, there’s clearly a consensus that Victoria is someone I should talk to. “Victoria has been doing a lot for UAS,” Mac tells me. “We recently ‘recognized’ that. We don’t have official leadership roles, but Victoria’s on their shit.” (Their unofficial official job title in the group is “point-person” instead of “president.”) Victoria tells me that UAS is still finding its footing and learning to balance logistical responsibilities with the group’s original aims. “After our hiatus last summer, the meetings at the beginning of this semester weren’t speaking to what I wanted out of the collective.”
Inviting members of the group to craft “useless cigarettes” (cigarette boxes filled with twelve unique pieces of art, rolled like cigarettes) felt much more in line with their philosophy of communal art-building, according to Mac and Victoria. In the future, they hope the group’s administrative responsibilities can also become more of a collective effort, so that new members can take on any level of responsibility as soon as they join. “It’s a work-in-progress,” Victoria tells me. “It should be exciting to be part of that work-in-progress. Because it’s so loose, it’s super easy to join and take whatever responsibility you want.”
UAS may be a “work-in-progress,” but tonight it certainly achieves its goal of creating a space where artists can share their art with one another. “Something that’s remained a through line,” says Mac, “is that as an artist, there are so many barriers to access, in terms of even joining groups, meeting other artists, and showing your work to other people.”
Frustration with barriers and bureaucracy has found its way into Victoria’s art, too. One of their works at the show, “I spent $15 on my dad’s mugshot,” represents their frustration with facing “weird bureaucratic parameters.”
Victoria Reshetnikov, I spent $15 on my dad’s mugshot (2023)
“Originally I wanted to make a diptych of myself and my dad’s mugshot, but in the process of trying to locate that, I couldn’t. I had to engage with those people-searching websites—they’re really low-brow, bad places. The reviews are like, ‘I found out my wife cheated on this site!’ The process was so stressful that I started making bad decisions, like spending $15 for the premium trial service or whatever, and still not getting any information. It was very frustrating, and I decided, in a moment of haste, to attempt to picture that frustration. But I’m mostly proud of the frame. I made the frame.”
The show’s art, like the decor, is an eclectic mix of style and personality. Painting, collage, multimedia art, sculpture, and interactive pieces intermingle on the multi-colored walls. One of my personal favorites is a beautiful wooden puzzle, comprised entirely of identical pieces, that people spend the evening attempting to solve. All night, people gather around the table, inviting others to join as they quietly work through the arduous task. To me, the puzzle accomplishes everything UAS hopes to achieve—a continuous, collective effort to generate community through art.
Meinzer, Non-Puzzle (2023)