Recently by S.C.Squibb
Vection, the perception or sensation of motion, decreases with prolonged exposure to movement. Thus after even a short period of travel at high speeds, the body loses its ability to recognize that it is moving at all. In these cases even the appearance of something stationary recovers only the understanding of motion, not the feeling.
It would seem, then, that, for a while now, the Whitney Biennial has served as just such a stationary object. Set to one side of the artistic superhighway, it is relegated the dubious task of reminding us of what we understand but no longer feel; that we are moving very fast indeed. Let those traveling on different roads marvel and squint at what a strange and wonderful playground art has built for itself. Let those not strapped to the hurtling hyperdrive of an industrialized cynicism exclaim: My fellow Americans, the state of the union is strong! It is not for us, we priestly guardians of the tender and delicate critical flame to risk its light by noting, even in passing, how far we may have come. It is not news.
Take the decision to put the Biennial in the hands of two young curators, each well under forty. Well, it's not really theirs, you know? They had help, were overseen, and in any case are firmly entrenched in the institution. Take their subsequent decision to give certain artists their own space to fill as they wished, rather than merely assembling a collection of prefabricated works. Well we've seen that sort of thing before, it shouldn't be understood as any sort of generosity on their or the museum's part, and in any case it fails more often than it succeeds. Take the extension of the show into realms of performance, installation, and general madness at the Park Avenue Armory. Well we can drink Tequila at home, no need to go to a museum for that. Take the almost total absence of painting, still the most widely disseminated shorthand for art in the larger context: would've been more interesting if they'd left it out entirely, Jerry Saltz assures us with a sigh, then at least everyone would have gotten hysterical.
Is that what it takes, Jerry? A giant sign screaming 'No More Painting Ahead'?
The point here is less to demonstrate extensive, structural cynicism, and still less to castigate those who might be most representative of it – Saltz is rarely the problem in this regard. Instead, we might ask, with an artistic practice so omnivorous, so totally coextensive, where might we stand in order to approach something like the 2008 Whitney Biennial with something like an appropriate critical facility. I have tried to sketch what the loss of this standing room implies for our ability to appreciate experimentation and creativity in an institutionalized context, but one could just as easily take the opposite track and demonstrate a similar inability to articulate precisely what is wrong with such gestures. Such a critique would require abstaining radically from the well-worn tropes of Biennial fatigue so as to indicate clearly the social and material stakes in play.
Writing in Art on Paper on the occasion of Marcia Tucker’s death, Dan Cameron had this to say about the late curator:
Marcia set a high ethical standard for herself and challenged the art world to follow suit. She always championed the underdog, struggled to articulate art's power to change people's lives, openly deplored the growing commercialization of the New York art community, wholeheartedly rejected the current trend of running museums like corporations, and believed fervently that museum curators should maintain a healthy distance from big-name art dealers. Even if Marcia's principles are no longer pragmatic for running a museum in the twenty-first century, they may yet survive as the perfect blueprint for launching one.
I am interested here in Cameron’s contrast between running a museum and launching one, as the opening of the New New Museum late last year seems to fall somewhere in between. Not quite business as usual, certainly, but also not a totally fresh start, the dual opening — of the architecture and the art — poses an unique opportunity for a re-examination of the relationship between the current presentation and its institutional history. Which New Museum is it that opened on the Bowery to so much fanfare?
I do not wish to speculate as to whether or not the New New Museum (NNM) lives up to the ethical paradigm ascribed to Tucker by Cameron, if, that is, its launching as a something new building is enough to overcome the pragmatic considerations he cites. I’m certain I have no idea; Tucker’s principles could be enumerated, commandment-style, on every new cubicle wall, or mentioning her name could be tantamount to treason, each are equally probable, for all I know, and the truth is probably somewhere in between. What is fascinating is that regardless of the relative importance of these ideas in terms of organizational or pragmatic priority, their legacy can be examined via the considerable branding effort being put forth at every level of the event in question.
We could therefore frame this another way, as a comparison of two blueprints, on the one hand, there is the one already mentioned, attributed by Cameron to Tucker, and the launching of the New Museum, and on the other, there is the brand identity created for the launch of the New New Museuem. My claim is twofold, first that both blueprints are organized by, or participate in a certain discourse of authenticity, and, secondly, the appearance of this vocabulary in two distinct aspects of the NNM provide a rare window onto the lexical or symbolic relationship between authenticity as a brand, and a history of authenticity, we might say. Taken apart, neither moment is news; authenticity has been the dominant branding motif for at least fifteen years and, on verso at least, the moral paradigm of choice since the Second World War. Similarly, we have plenty of examples of people, ideas, or institutions who arrive from the past couched in a narrative of having been authentic, if sometimes little else. What is new is that the New Museum (NM), unlike Jeep, Sprite or any other brand offering itself as an emissary of the real, actually possesses a history worthy of the term. And it is a history that it has been careful to honor in terms of the design and execution of its new building and inaugural show. It is in light of this that I would like to suggest one further point, namely that the NNM may be the best example we have so far of the becoming-brand of authenticity, if only because that is quite literally what is taking place, literally the translation of one blueprint into another, as opposed to either the performative contradiction of being told to obey one’s thirst, or pulling a CBGB and never really trying.
Tino Sehgal
Marian Goodman - 24 W. 57 St, New York NY
30 November 2007 - 10 January 2008
Each visitor to This situation, the recently closed Tino Sehgal show at Marian Goodman, is greeted by a chorus of performers who chant, "Welcome to this situation," before walking backwards and assuming a tableau. One of the performers than recites a quotation and a discussion ensues. This process is repeated for each new arrival.The quotations are framed with two variables; the date and the author, who is either 'somebody,' or 'a Situationist.' Thus:
"In 1953 a Situationist said "The struggle against poverty has overshot its ultimate goal – the liberation of man from material care – and become an obsessive image hanging over the present. Presented
with the alternative of love or a garbage disposal unit, young people of all countries have chosen the garbage disposal unit."
or
"In 2005, somebody said, "The big question of our times is that… everybody… has to produce an income, in order to buy food and housing. But actually there is (little) which is really necessary - except what, say, 5 % of the population are producing in terms of housing and food. If the rest of production is unnecessary as well as problematic… How can I turn this equation, i.e. just produce something that is somehow also nothing and make an income out of it… Today we have enough material products… they are becoming counterproductive, but we still need to produce things because we need an income. So what else could we produce? And are these things then interesting? I think the experimental side of my work is that I produce things which fulfill certain criteria, for example the criteria of being sustainable. But then the question is are they attractive or are they just boring?"
and
99 x 71 inches. Image courtesy of 303 Gallery.
Yellowcake
Thomas Demand
303 Gallery - 525 W. 22 St, New York NY
3 November - 22 December 2007
Yellowcake, the show currently open at 303 gallery, marks something of a departure for Thomas Demand. In the past the artist has largely confined himself to images already in some sort of circulation, often ones that he has himself encountered elsewhere. His technique of recreating, in cardboard and paper, a given photograph's subject, and photographing it afresh, so to speak, has thus chiefly served to intervene and complicate an already operative sector of the representational economy. In this way, Barn (1997) simultaneously highlights the seams on the construction that is 'Jackson Pollack,' and what that same signifier manages to leave out, presenced here, perhaps, by the light pouring in the windows and pooling on the floor.
The consistently satisfying thing about this delicate dance of absence and presence running through Demand's work is that it's meticulously reflected in his methodology. Rather than simply gesturing, as many do, towards a body of ideas regarding structure, construct, representation, and the like, Demand takes no chances, producing for our consumption the entire spectacular cycle - each and every time. This diligence prevents him from merely rehearsing the parable of the photo under late capitalism, say, or glossily demonstrating yet again the numerous deceits of official history. Instead, this commitment allows him to set these truths to work on lived experience, returning it to us more estranged, and thus, more familiar, than before.
What makes Yellowcake such a departure for Demand, and what makes it so compelling, is that he has chosen for his subject something which is not only outside the dominant economy, but strategically so, such that its appearance in ordinary photographs alone constitutes a sufficient presentation in the hands of a lesser artist. This imagery would no doubt seek to supplement the fraudulent discourse regarding the American invasion of Iraq with actual, documentary photos of Niger's Embassy in Rome; from which the letterhead used to fabricate the evidence of Hussein's alleged attempt to purchase of weapons grade uranium (yellowcake) was stolen. In Demand's hands, however, this act of demonstration, this voici, is much more complicated than any simple speaking of truth to power.
Courtesy of the Pocket Utopia Blog.
A Lawrence Weiner Salon
2 November - 25 November, 2007
Pocket Utopia - 1037 Flushing Avenue, Brooklyn NY
In his 'Notes on & About Art,' from 1995, Lawrence Weiner insists
ART IS NOT A METAPHOR UPON THE RELATIONSHIPS OF HUMAN BEINGS TO OBJECTS & OBJECTS TO OBJECTS IN RELATION TO HUMAN BEINGS BUT A REPRESENTATION OF AN EMPIRCAL EXISTING FACT …IF AND WHEN A PRESENTATIONAL SITUATION CANNOT ACCOMMODATE BY VIRTUE OF SELF-PROTECTION (CONFLICT OF BASIC IDEOLOGIES) A WORK OF ART IT (THE WORK OF ART) THEN MUST ERECT A STRUCTURE CAPABLE OF SUPPORTING ITSELF (THE WORK OF ART)
BUT WHATSOEVER SUPPORT IS FOUND CAPABLE BECOMES IN EFFECT LEGITIMIZED PERHAPS THE DIALECTIC CONCLUDES AS THE SYSTEM OF SUPPORT CHANGES
I would like to nominate the Lawrence Weiner Salon currently open at Pocket Utopia as the arrival of just such a self-supporting structure, with all attendant implications, but first, the details.
Pocket Utopia is a self-described 'away-from center, off-center, exhibition salon and social space run by artist Austin Thomas.' In setting up the Weiner salon, Thomas has carefully attended to the implications of the interaction between purpose and Weiner's work, to delightful effect. Thus the three main components of the show; 'a reading room, a re-creation, and a text piece,' can be seen as reflecting the social space, the salon, and the exhibition, respectively. All three are worth the trip, in and of themselves. The text piece, 'ART IS NOT A GAME IT HAS NO RULES' remains superlative at capturing Wiener's unique combination of playful beauty and intense seriousness, while the reading room has been dutifully stocked with much of Weiner's textual output, including his own book works, interviews, and collaborations with other artists. One could do far worse on a lazy Sunday than to spend it flipping through these volumes, chatting with the intelligent, amicable Thomas, and enjoying a coffee from the local bodega. It was certainly the highlight of my week.
still from two-channel video
Jillian McDonald
Moti Hasson - 535 West 25th Street, New York NY
11 October - 10 November 10, 2007
In Zombie Loop, a two-channel video from 2006, Jillian McDonald positions the viewer between two projections on opposite walls. On one side we see a zombie pursuing the camera, on the other, its intended victim, fleeing. McDonald performs as both victim and zombie, noting: "Locating the viewers physically between the two roles positions them as both the pursued just out of reach of danger, and the pursuer hungering for its prey." A 2007 piece, with the same structure but a different genre — Vampire Hunting is on display, in a sense, in 'Waking the Dead,' McDonald's solo show currently at the Moti Hasson gallery — more on this later.
McDonald's work is fantastic. Her intelligent, sophisticated, and consistently well-executed interpolation of certain, concentrated conceits of representation spans video, photography and performance. Indeed, her work so effectively conjures enough theoretical familiars that it is easy to miss one of its more obviously delightful aspects: it's hilarious. The pieces currently on display at the Moti Hasson bear particular witness to the latter, while the stack of criticism on her website the former. (Of distinct quality is Sylvie Fortin's piece, quoted in the press release.) It is work that is simultaneously accessible and deeply provocative.
