Denver artist Lewis Neeff doesn’t care if people take his Temple Tantrum festival seriously. In fact, that’s the point of it.
“Play and humor are my most powerful allies in this, and in everything that I’m doing,” said Neeff, 30, who has gained attention in the art world for projects such as his Diary Library and the impish portraits that line his Instagram page.
Neeff’s first Temple Tantrum, an art-soaked, “experiential” block party that will take place Sept. 1-2 outside his studio at 2400 Curtis St., is a celebration of both the building it’s anchored to and the community it harbors. Music, stand-up comedy, wrestling, food trucks, and beer, wine, and cider will be complemented by eye-popping art installations in and around the structure, which will throw open its doors to the public.
Inside, they’ll be greeted by large-than-life snails traversing the ornate stairway, a psychedelic jungle in the second-floor hallway, a portal made of living flowers, nooks filled with black-lit neon altars, and the general sense that something strange and wonderful has been going on at 2400 Curtis St. for decades.
Conceived by W.J. and Frank Edbrooke, who also designed the Brown Palace Hotel and Tabor Grand Opera House, the hulking brick synagogue opened in 1882 and served as the first Temple Emanuel in Denver. Before the turn of that century, the United Way (first known as the Charity Organization Society) was founded there. Other Jewish temples moved in and out before the building was converted into a printing operation — and later, an underground venue that hosted raves and punk bands such as Black Flag.
But ever since former RedLine Contemporary Art Center project manager Adam Gordon bought and renovated it from a state of prominent disrepair five years ago, the Temple Art Center (as it’s often called now) has come alive in a way that its architects could scarcely have dreamed, playing host to diverse artist studios — at an exceedingly affordable $1 per square foot, thanks to Gordon — the PlatteForum gallery/youth-arts program, Denver Zine Library, Two Parts event production company and more.
While the surrounding River North, Ballpark and Five Points neighborhoods have become oft-cited examples of Denver’s rapid gentrification, the Temple occupies a grittier space. Homeless shelters, a sprawling Greyhound mechanical facility and aging residential buildings are its only neighbors.
“This area’s a lot more punk rock, and pretty perfect for what we’re trying to do and what this building is,” Neeff said as he looked out a third-floor window at the T-shaped footprint of the festival, which will include closures at the corner of Curtis and 24th streets. “Historically, the neighborhood thrives when this building thrives, and this is a celebration of that, too.”
As monikers go, Temple Tantrum is just right: playful but evocative, hip but simple. It places its namesake front and center while opening it up for humorous self-deprecation. The festival, for example, will feature not only a costume contest with a $50 prize from Wizard’s Chest, but also peepholes drilled into the side of artists’ studio walls so people can see miniatures constructed just for the event (or, as Neeff calls them, “other worlds”).
His artist studio sits nearly in the center of this open-house discovery zone, stuffed with objects he’s found and repurposed, like an old Asteroids arcade cabinet and all manner of visually dense, artfully arranged bric-a-brac. His cardboard sculptures — including a full-sized portable toilet, Dumpster and 15-foot telephone pole, some meant to be worn as costumes — spill out of his 380-square-foot studio and into the hallway, where artist and therapist Kat Nechleba’s intricate mixed-media sculptures similarly command the eye.
It’s part of a larger creative ethos for Neeff — this playful but earnest repurposing of otherwise disposable elements — although not one tied to an explicit, intellectual critique. The pedigree of local, art-happy, DIY-rooted sponsors for Temple Tantrum, such as Sexpot Comedy, KGNU, Birdy magazine and Meow Wolf, also offers shorthand for Neeff’s tastes.
“I’ve been trying the art life for 10 years now and it’s not easy,” said Neeff, a Wyoming native. “If I can make something great out of trash in a day, or participate in a trade economy, I think that’s really powerful. People in the art world try to differentiate themselves by using inaccessible materials, but I don’t think that actually adds any power to what you’re doing.”
Temple Tantrum, which has benefited from a $2,500 Indiegogo fundraising campaign and the sponsorship of Santa Fe-based art company Meow Wolf, is designed to let people follow their fancy, whatever that looks like. It could be sampling one of 20 musical acts (including Rhinoceropolis expat Pictureplane, Plantrae, Princess Dewclaw and Rarebyrd$) or watching the anarchist puppetry of No Gods No Masters. It could be exploring the 20,000-square-foot handmade fun house, or snapping photos of street performers and the geodesic domes that frame the main entrance. It could simply be wandering through the Temple itself, which in 2018 is celebrating 40 years since landing on the National Register of Historic Places.
Neeff hopes about 4,000 people will show up for Temple Tantrum, although the event is optimistically permitted for 5,000. Of course, he admits to a quasi-selfish goal in throwing the event, which is modestly budgeted at about $15,000 and runs, like many festivals, on plenty of volunteer labor (sign up to be one here).
“I love the art community here, but I felt like I hadn’t found a community of people that were scrappy weirdos like me yet, so I wanted to see if I could bring as many characters together as possible,” he said. “And now I have all these people!”
More than 80 artists, in fact, cross-pollinating and worshiping at the altar of creativity for two raucous days. It’s Neeff’s event, to be sure: A massive portrait of him by acclaimed Denver muralist Thomas Evans (Detour) happens to adorn the Temple’s huge eastern wall. But Neeff is doing this for practical reasons: he just wants to have a big, weird art party.
“It’s funny to say out loud, but those Sailor Jerry (rum) ads are some of the most popular visual art in the world, and it’s because there is something that is incredibly accessible about them,” he said. “I don’t like using the term lowbrow, but stuff that’s not highly polished is attractive to me. If you can make something that is easily understood by a lot of people, then you’ve done a lot more than most pieces — and most art in general.”
If you go
Temple Tantrum. Debut art-block party with music, comedy, wrestling, food trucks and drinks. Sept. 1-2 at 2400 Curtis St. Tickets: $25-$45, tantrumfest.com