Moving from professional bull riding into the creative life of art and exhibition design is not an often-trod path, but it鈥檚 the one taken by artist Jim Rittimann, exhibition designer at the UW鈥檚 Henry Art Gallery. Oh, and he shows dogs, too.
As head preparator and exhibit designer for the gallery, Rittimann, 53, gets the Henry gallery space ready for its visiting installations and consults with the artists and curators to make sure each exhibit is correctly installed and shown to its best advantage.
鈥淚 talk to them, and design ways to 鈥� make sure their ideas come out as clearly as possible,鈥� he said. Rittimann has been at the 91探花since 1986, and earned his master鈥檚 degree in sculpture while working at the gallery.
It helps that he, too, is an artist; he knows how to communicate with the exhibiting artists and generally forms friendships with them as he helps their art take on three-dimensional reality at the Henry. And whether he agrees with every artist on every nuance is not the point; 鈥淚 know what they want and how to achieve it,鈥� he said.
His colleagues at the Henry appreciate his talents, too. 鈥淗e really gets it,鈥� enthused Elizabeth Brown, chief curator and director of exhibitions and collections at the gallery. 鈥淗e has the larger picture as well as an ability to focus in on the details. I depend on his eye, and his mind.鈥�
Rittimann has a selectivity of words and a no-frills, Texas kind of attitude that hint of stories untold, and indeed, he has led an interesting life. His current job is worlds away from the environment that occupied him in his youth. From his late teens until he was 29, Rittimann was a rodeo bull rider, competing nationwide in the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association.
He could as easily measure his bull riding career in injuries as in years. This becomes clear when Rittimann gets to listing his rodeo-related calamities. 鈥淎ll the ribs on my left hand side (have been broken) different times. I broke my collar bone several times. My knee 鈥� and I have lost my spleen and been kicked in the head four times and knocked out鈥鈥檝e punctured a lung鈥︹��
But then, that鈥檚 the profession, he said: 鈥淚f you鈥檙e in rodeo and you ride bulls, it鈥檚 not 鈥榠f鈥� you鈥檙e going to get hurt, it鈥檚 鈥榳hen.鈥欌��
Still, it wasn鈥檛 the injuries outright that made him decide to leave the sport. 鈥淎t times I鈥檇 start thinking, 鈥業s this what I want for the rest of my life?鈥欌�� He chose his words carefully: 鈥淚t became 鈥� it just wasn鈥檛 interesting anymore. And when you start thinking like that is when you get hurt, when you鈥檙e not putting 100 percent into it.鈥�
Does he still miss bull-riding? A bit, maybe. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a lot of freedom. You鈥檙e like a free spirit 鈥� you work for yourself.鈥� But then, time would have ended his career anyhow. 鈥淚t鈥檚 pushing the envelope to do it into your 40s,鈥� he said.
A love for animals, however, continues in Rittimann鈥檚 life. He and his wife, Christie, have eight dogs 鈥� four Boston Terriers, a border collie, two shelties and an old Doberman pinscher 鈥� most of which compete in dog agility shows across the country. They have no children. 鈥淥ur dogs are our kids,鈥� Rittimann said.
The dogs win points in each show that then lead to further honors. 鈥淲e have boxes full of ribbons,鈥� Rittimann said. 鈥淎nd all of our dogs have won some, except our Doberman, who doesn鈥檛 run at all.鈥� He said presenting the dogs in a show environment is a bit like his former work with bulls (except for the pain and injuries), in that human and animal are always working and thinking in tandem.
Rittimann鈥檚 artistic life is busy, too. He creates eye-catching, intriguing sculptures that blend fact and fiction abstractly. He likes art that provokes a response, he said.
Take the lanky, skeletal creatures among those labeled 鈥淢ixed Bones and Insect Parts鈥� pictured in notes for a 1996 exhibit titled Related Species: they seem to defy several natural laws one by one, starting with gravity itself.
Frozen in an imagined leap or gesturing with long, sticklike limbs 鈥� their outlines almost languid despite the brittleness of bone 鈥� these would-be insects seem proud, even preening. Many stare outward with black goggle eyes. Such formings of bone and wing never really existed in the living world, of course 鈥� only in Rittimann鈥檚 imagination.
Brown, the Henry鈥檚 chief curator, has high praise for Rittimann鈥檚 art. 鈥淚 think he has an original vision, and a very beautiful technique that鈥檚 surprising,鈥� she said. 鈥淗e makes things that are totally convincing but completely impossible. But there鈥檚 a subtlety to it, a beauty.鈥�
It鈥檚 Rittimann鈥檚 style to present his creatures without presuming to give the viewer a detailed explanation. That way, observers may conjure their own stories 鈥� of how the imaginary animals might have moved, or what sort of lives they might have led. That makes the art take place in the viewer鈥檚 mind. It鈥檚 not for him, he feels, to make these oddities move. That鈥檚 for the beholder. 鈥淚 like that a lot,鈥� Rittimann said. 鈥淚f they moved around like in a movie, I wouldn鈥檛 like them. The fact that they don鈥檛 move allows you to think.鈥�
Rittimann said, 鈥淚 always like making works that play on both sides of your brain, that play on the rational side of how you look at things, and on the irrational side, not describable with words. It stirs the emotions and the imagination 鈥� so when those two things come together, I find that really exciting.鈥�
And though Rittimann works regularly with artists to help facilitate their own creations, he doesn鈥檛 care for insularity or aloofness in the art world. His art is for regular people, he says, not for other artists. 鈥淭he best people who view art are the people who are not afraid to say what鈥檚 on their mind.鈥� And if a viewer calls his art 鈥渏unk,鈥� well, at least it鈥檚 an honest response, he said.
鈥淚 make art solely for me, and if the world gets something out of it, that鈥檚 great. I am not trying to teach you something 鈥� I am only opening doors. If I knew the answer to something, why would I want to do it?鈥�