Visit James Jasiorkowski's Erector Square studio Oct. 13 & 14

Open Studios—the visual arts grab-bag that connects hundreds of painters, sculptors, potters and other artists with thousands of eager onlookers annually—turns 10 this year. But to the hardy New Haven arts community, its genesis goes back 20 years at least.

In the mid-1980s, the New Haven arts community—not just visual arts but theater, music and dance—was celebrating a particularly open and friendly renaissance. Arts collectives flourished, as did small performance companies and outdoor arts festivals. There were wild hopes that such interactive wonderment could be assured for eons to come. Then there was frustration when some of these groups couldn't keep up the furious pace because, while enthusiasm was everywhere, organization and funding were lacking. Permanent performance spaces and galleries were proposed, but most never got off the drawing board.

It was from this desire to have a community-driven clearing-house for the arts that Artspace was born. Money was raised for a venue: first at the corner of Whitney Avenue and Audubon Street (now Gourmet Heaven), then a block away at 70 Audubon, in the same building as the Arts Council of Greater New Haven. Then the '90s set in. Real estate deals that seemed a bargain a few years earlier became expensive albatrosses. State and federal arts funding fell away. Suddenly the community model really became about the community, as artists retreated back to their own houses and studios.

Artspace persevered, but had to leave its Audubon Street space when the overhead got oppressive. It struggled for a few years, but by then it had already unleashed a project so grand, so intelligently run, so warmly received, that the institution as a whole could piggyback on this brainstorm through the lean times: Open Studios.

Artspace didn't coin the concept, but it perfected it. Many cities had seized on the idea of having a designated day or weekend on which local artists cleaned up their studios, put out some wine and cheese and opened their doors to the general public. The main expense for the organizers of such an event is the directory of artists.

But Artspace went several steps further. When it was brought to its attention that many artists ?who wanted to participate didn't have studios, or at least open ones, the organization took it upon itself to provide one single huge "alternative space." Then, inspired beyond any reasonable expectation, Artspace had the creative idea of putting that alternative space in a different place every year. Often, the choice of venue made a direct reference to the economic and geographic state of New Haven at the time: The old phone company building on George Street, rendered archaic by the telecommunications revolution; the Smoothie undergarment factory, shortly after the century-old landmark was gutted by its new corporate owner and shortly before it was turned into luxury apartments; Science Park, in the empty years between the technology and research booms of the '80s and the '00s; the Pirelli building, before that corner of Sargent Drive was relandscaped as part of IKEA.

The generosity and community-building didn't end there. When Artspace realized that Erector Square (the former Gilbert Co. toy factory complex where many prominent local artists had established impressive studios) had become a prime Open Studios destination to the detriment of more scatterd studios, the organizers broke Open Studios into three distinct weekends—one for the conventional (often housebound) Open Studios tour, one for the one-stop art-shopping of Erector Square and one for the alternative space.

It's hard to imagine a single event enticing such a quantity and variety of disparate artists, and working so hard to maintain that even after Open Studios became an institution unto itself. Not that there weren't naysayers: You'll still hear the occasional elitist put-down of the rabble, the sniffing at those who would dare display their doodles and topical political statements next to "real" art. And, likewise, you'll hear the "artists of the people" complain about the fancily framed and prepared artworks by those who are so "out of touch."

But that dichotomy's part of the fun, and part of the reality of the art world. You never know who will draw the crowds. Open Studios offers you the novelty comic painings of Tony Juliano, the engrossing oils of Oi Fortin, the streetpunk imagery of "Hothead Paisan" creator Diane DiMassa, the intimate photography of Meredith Miller or Jennifer Reynolds or Jeanine Newell, the modern sculptures of Barry Svigals or Drew Nemetz, the realistic portraiture of Bryan Wziontko or Teresa Raineri.

Splinter groups have formed within Open Studios, like-minded artists who've banded together in their own suites, or entered into collaborative projects. That's the most obvious sign of a return to the collectivist mindset on which Artspace and Open Studios were founded. But one thing remains apparent: Open Studios is an Artspace thing, a refined and carefully orchestrated annual event by a familiar downtown gallery. It's not an organic, spontaneous event, but a now-10-year-old tradition fueled by skilled administrators and tireless volunteers. And that's what's being handed over to the new Artspace executive director and her new cohorts, and that's how it should be. The opportunities are wide open for folks to start their own arts events under their own terms. Open Studios has become the mainstream, city-supported, community standard, at the age of 10.

carnott@newhavenadvocate.com