Big art in a small town – Artist resurrects a rectory and comes to terms with stigma

WELLSVILLE − Art is in the eye of the beholder; real art is in the face of the beholder.

Case in point − Gigi Janko’s public art installation, which transformed an entire block along the Ohio River into a landscape of raw emotion. A former rectory, painstakingly dismantled then reconstructed with additional demolition material, rises from a debris field that was once the grounds of Immaculate Conception Church. Printed signs provide a narrative − or perhaps subtitles − for this tapestry of chaos. She calls it "But I Misunderstood: Six Houses and a Porch."

All of this sits behind the church building, which serves as her studio and another art installation she calls "A View from Afar."

It was the church that first got my attention as I drove down Main Street. Or, more specifically, it was the big sign on the front of the church that read “feel free to throw stones.” Jars filled with pebbles have been placed nearby for the benefit of those who might feel so inclined.

I resisted the temptation.

In decades of spurnpiking − randomly driving backroads and looking for interesting sights − this was the most intriguing thing I’d ever seem. What a contrast from the previous day when I found myself communing with nature and exploring historical sites at Beaver Creek State Park 15 miles northeast of Wellsville. Yet this seemed to fit right in with a road trip characterized by coincidence and unexpected connections spanning geography, history and the human condition.

First impressions can be deceiving: Meet Gigi

Just how it fit in became clearer weeks after the three-day excursion through eastern Ohio. After I had time to do online research, interview Gigi and reflect on the trip.

I was stunned to learn how young she was. The scale of the installation and the pure angst gushing from open wounds in the broken brick walls and the disjointed wooden skeleton led me to believe it was the work of a woman who was middle-aged or older. She’s in her early 20s.

Gigi grew up in California and later moved to western Massachusetts. She managed to graduate from college at 17 with a double major in dance and ceramics. With money left over from her college fund, she was able to buy the church, the rectory, the convent and another structure − basically a 1.3-acre block.

Why Wellsville?

She was looking for a place to live and produce art on a grand scale. Wellsville’s depressed economy made it feasible. Plus, it turned out to be a good fit for the underlying themes of her work. Gigi sees parallels between her struggles and the plight of people in towns like Wellsville.

Finding the connection to depressed Midwestern town

Once upon a time, Wellsville was known for its commercial ceramics. That was back when we didn’t buy our China from China. Those days are gone. The population has decreased by more than 32 percent since 1990. Looking at the bigger picture, Wellsville’s population peaked at 8,800 in 1920. A hundred years later, it was 3,100.

It took a few years for the installation to evolve. In that time, Gigi came to more fully appreciate the connection between herself and the depressed Midwestern town.

“The piece as a whole is really about how trauma infiltrates a system, whether that be an individual or a community,” she said in an email interview. “I see what it’s like for a whole community to be disturbed by a series of local, regional and global infrastructural changes in a short period of time. The effect was catastrophic. I know it sounds hyperbolic, but I really do see it as a mass trauma. The community is certainly responding as one that has experienced a trauma. The instability. The lack of identity. The struggle to hold down jobs/find the motivation to do so. The substance abuse. The mental health challenges.”

'Moved to Wellsville with zero construction expertise'

I asked whether she came to town with a firm idea of what she planned to do with the buildings and grounds. Long answer short − no. As it evolved "But I Misunderstood" took on a life of its own. It grew as she grew. It grew out of her experiences and her struggles with mental health issues and life in general. It grew out of the artistic process and the materials themselves.

“My misconceptions about where this project would go were particularly dramatic in this case because I began with a limited understanding of what my options were,” Gigi said. “One of the primary purposes of getting familiar with the materials − and the skills that will be needed for whatever it is I am making − is that I understand what I will be capable of accomplishing. I moved to Wellsville with zero construction expertise.”

Yet there she was − wielding a crowbar, operating heavy equipment, dismantling other houses and salvaging materials from fire-damaged structures.

Some of that − the skills and access to the structures − stemmed from a stint with the local volunteer fire department.

“The two-plus years that I spent most actively engaged with the department were the years (I was most physically engaged) with the construction,” she said. “The skill sets were a perfect match, complementing both my mindset and my body at the time.”

In another bizarre coincidence, Gigi was among the firefighters who responded to the infamous Norfolk Southern train derailment in East Palestine on Feb. 3, 2023 — a year to the day prior to my visit to Wellsville.

Mixed responses from the townsfolk

The local response to her artwork has been mixed. I knew that before doing online research and interviewing her. Shortly after I pulled up in front of the church a woman parked behind me and got out of her car to walk across the street to the Post Office. The woman − who was around my age − glanced toward the installation with a look of disdain. She noticed me standing by my truck admiring Gigi’s handiwork and gave me a dirty look.

Then there are those who have come to appreciate Gigi’s artwork. Or at least accept it.

“The only acceptance I have any control over is mine,” she said. “I have accepted, to the extent I can, how 'But I Misunderstood' was received. I am unsure how others feel about it at this time. I don’t know if living with something qualifies as accepting it.”

Gigi has no immediate plans for the installation itself. But she is looking at ways to preserve it and present it to a wider audience.

A gallery-friendly viewing experience

“The next thing I have in motion ... is to establish a gallery-friendly viewing experience of the piece through the use of a VR (virtual reality) headset,” she said. “I have already taken the full array of 360-images in a grid of about a three-foot range, meaning that you can hop from photograph to photograph within the VR world every three feet. I have also taken photos from almost every possible position within the rectory structure.

"This will make the headset experience potentially a much more rewarding one, certainly more detailed. You will be able to enter into the yard (then progress) to the highest points in the building, all within a matter of minutes. It will be portable, convenient ... much more easily consumable than 'But I Misunderstood as it stands.'”

Meanwhile, Gigi plans to continue her education and is writing her memoir. She’s written more than 500 pages and hopes to have an edited draft by August.

“I know, I know, what 22-year-old goes around thinking she can write a memoir?” she said. “But I swear, some intense and unusual things have happened to me.”

I noticed.

This article originally appeared on Ashland Times Gazette: Gigi Janko resurrects a rectory and comes to terms with stigma