Small but mighty, Feral Gallery is a Native and queer-owned contemporary art gallery fueled by punk ethos and community pathos. A gumball machine filled with $1 “mystery cat balls” and cat-shaped panels decorate the room, a fitting tribute to the independent spirit of both felines and the creatively feral. Founded by artist Mar Williams and three other fellow creators, Feral creates a space for underrepresented artists through galleries, workshops, and gatherings – from pop-up shows to Cherokee-style basket weaving classes. We spoke with Williams about what it means to build an alternative art space.
Tell us a little about yourself (where you come from, what you do, your pronouns, etc.)
I’m Mar Williams (they/them). I’ve been in and around Denver since I was a kid. I’m originally from SE Texas, the kinda swampy part that’s basically Louisiana. I’m enrolled and a registered artist with the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma. I’ve been a working artist most my adult life, primarily in illustration and design. I’m a fine artist, mural artist, and have spent 20 (years) in the hacker world doing art and tech projects but moving away from tech in recent years. Settling in to my “the Luddites were right” era.
How would you describe Feral Gallery to someone who’s never been there before?
I heard someone describe us recently as “a tiny gallery with a big bang.” I like that. We’re an indigenous, queer, punk, local, contemporary fine art gallery – not necessarily all at once or in that order. We host workshops in our studio space around the corner and always have something going on First Fridays. There’re 4 founding artists – myself, my sister Aimee Valentine, Joshua Finley, and Logan Rainard.
What was missing from Denver’s art scene that made you feel Feral needed to exist?
There are definitely other great spaces out there, but I wanted to create more access for queer and indigenous folks, more points of connection for community, a little more punk and a little less pretense.
How did it come about?
I used to have Cabal Gallery with a handful of other artists, down on South Broadway. We closed a little bit before the pandemic hit, and I’ve wanted to start up another space since then. Found this one just strolling by, loved it, and signed the lease the same day.
You’ve been building alternate art spaces in Denver for a while now. How did your experience with Cabal, for instance, influence what Feral has become?
I think Feral is a distillation of the spaces that came before it, with more intention towards amplifying underrepresented folks. I keep coming back to building spaces around creation and knowledge sharing. I think these are just basic avenues for human connection that we’ve been robbed of socially and culturally. So I’ll keep stubbornly wrangling people to experience each other’s weird art and chat around a screen-printing rig.
Feral is one of few queer-and Indigenous-owned contemporary galleries in the city. What does meaningful representation look like to you beyond simply hanging work by marginalized artists?
Beyond wall space, I want knowledge sharing with the workshop (Feral Studio) space. Everybody can teach something. So many of us carry these bits of culture and craft and insight, but we’re dismissive of it, like we don’t register our knowledge as something worth sharing. It is.
Tell me about some of the recent exhibitions/events, such as Friend Shaped or Gregg Deal.
Currently, Gregg Deal’s “Romantic Crap.” I’m such a fan of his art and of Dead Pioneers. The show is a salon style exhibition with accessible prices for first time buyers and collectors alike. His artist statement: “One of the biggest parts of American Nationalism is the myth and romance of its history. The existence of Indigenous peoples in and around these stories are misrepresented at best, and completely invisible at worst. Nevertheless, the “Indian” exists throughout both body and spirit. The result of this has inundated American so-called culture with our likeness, rooted in fantasy, misunderstanding and romanticism. The romantic aspect being paramount in carrying with it the storylines that uphold the very power structures that now seek to eliminate the autonomy of women, queer folks, black and brown folks, and even to a certain extent, poor whites. In the lie, we have lost the truth, convoluting our existence with blankets of disease given to us by the very people who wish to exploit our lives, our labor, our culture, our language, our stories, our very existence. The bits of Americana here stand as a beacon of romantic mediocrity, reminding us how much we don’t know, what we have forgotten but how important it is to never forget. The headdress, the maiden, the hatchet, the cowboy. Trite reminders of what they think we are, what they wish we could be, dismissive of how much more the original inhabitants of this land are. Images strewn about amidst language, textile patterns and the drip and of paint and abstraction, standing as a stark reminder in visual form of the confusion and difficulty of our place, while simultaneously grasping on to the desperate hilarity of its existence.”
Friend Shaped was a popular one. We had about 30 artists who created works on cat shaped panels, across different mediums. I think being lighter and a little silly made it an accessible show for artists, and for patrons. We had a handful of youth artists too. We’re aiming to do group shows every couple of months. Our next group show is “Trans Wrath: Works of Trans Resistance” July 3rd- Aug 1st.
Tell me about the workshop space, from screen printing to Cherokee basket weaving.
Everyone can teach something. It’s meant to be casual, so folks can just be in community with each other. We do sliding scale for all our workshops. We’ve done a few screen printing workshops, using pre-burned screens, and people bring their own shirts to keep costs low. At the Spice Can Mic Workshop, Logan taught basic soldering and electronics. Oklahoma style Cherokee Basket Weaving with Salix is a monthly class. It’s cool to watch how naturally this type of weaving comes to people.
What kinds of artists gravitate towards Feral?
All types! But seeking out underrepresented artists. People whose work should be seen but isn’t because of systemic issues.
How would you describe Denver’s art scene right now?
I think the scene is full of interesting people making interesting things. It might be tight financially to actually practice, but a lot of us are stubborn enough to make it work.
What motivates you to keep building these community-oriented art spaces such as Feral?
This is just where my heart is. I want to connect with people through art and the things we make, and probably other people need that too.
Why does a space like this matter right now?
Gonna quote Henry Rollins here: “This is not the time to be dismayed, this is punk rock time. This is what Joe Strummer trained you for.”