Allan Kaprow’s Yard: Redundant Reinvention

Hauser & Wirth Gallery made their American debut with the opening of Allan Kaprow’s Yard. The exhibition consisted of “reinventions” of Allan Kaprow’s famous 1961 “happening” interpreted by three contemporary artists. In addition to this, the gallery provided various printed materials documenting and paying tribute to Yard and all its subsequent adaptations. Each “reinvention” was staged at different locations throughout the city; Yard (Sign) by Sharon Hayes at New York Marble Cemetery, Yard (Junkyard) by Josiah McElheny at the Queens Museum of Art, and Yard (To Harrow) by William Pope.L. at Hauser & Wirth. I especially focused on Pope.L.’s interpretation, being that it was situated in the actual gallery and shared the location with the supplemental materials- creating a more cohesive exhibition piece than the other two, which seemed to be floating out in NYC limbo.
Upon entering, a familiar smell immediately transported me to my grandfather’s auto shop. The lights flash red to white, and between these intervals you catch glimpses of what you are trying to walk through- mounds of black rubber tires. Toward the end of the room at your right is a shelf holding large black trash bags filled with mysterious threatening shapes (later you discover they are mannequins covered in Vaseline). Mirrored walls create the illusion that this bizarre rubber abyss goes on forever, while recordings of Pope.L.’s voice boom overhead with nonsensical phrases.
Pope.L himself describes the piece as a revival of Kaprow’s spirit of fun as well as his message of environmental consciousness. And although the idea of amusement is apparent in the playground-like construction of the tires, which encourages gallery goers to climb and haphazardly rearrange them, I found the eco-friendly concept harder to detect. The subtitle, Harrow, defined as preparation of soil for growth, is an obvious implication of nature, however this seems more in line with Pope.L.’s attempt to bridge past and present. Even more difficult to distinguish are lines between reinvention and reproduction. The similarities between Pope.L.’s Yard and Kaprow’s get to be quite confusing, and one leaves the gallery wondering if the piece was indeed paying tribute or just ripping it off. Ultimately, Hauser & Wirth Gallery’s revival of this fundamental artist and period of art history reminds us of how precarious reinventions can be. In the end perhaps it was best to simply leave “Yard” to the man who reinvented it best.

Grand Openings, SculptureCenter

In a hidden nook just off SculptureCenter’s main exhibition space is a small gallery that, in its current incarnation, could easily be overlooked. On its white walls hang a light box and ten framed posters, all of them featuring the words “Grand Openings” in a variety of fonts. In its center is a table on which lie several copies of a nondescript black book.

This unremarkable layout is likely to inspire most visitors to glance at the posters, flip through the book and move on, seduced by the rhythmic music and pulsating lights of Mike Kelley and Michael Smith's installation next door. Those who linger will be rewarded with the discovery of an eclectic publication filled with strange charts, hand-drawn diagrams, excerpts from defunct philosophical journals and transcripts of online chats about Germany’s Next Top Model. At that point, the most intrepid may seek out the exhibition’s press release, google "Grand Openings" and begin to piece together the history of a relatively new art collective – their first collaboration took place in 2005, at Performa05 in New York - who mount bizarre performances that are evidently best enjoyed live.

Grand Openings’ beautifully designed publication is full of fascinating contents. It also presents an intriguing conundrum: is it an archive of the group’s past work, a blueprint for future interventions, an artwork in and of itself, or all of the above? Still, the book alone is not sufficient to grab and hold an audience’s attention, and the exhibition amounts to little more than a reading room.

SculptureCenter is an odd choice of venue for this sculpture-less setup. It could be argued that printed matter is a form of sculpture, or that Grand Openings’ performances constitute “living sculptures” but nowhere does the curator indicate whether he supports or rejects those hypotheses.

Although this bland installation may enable Grand Openings to reach a wider audience, it doesn’t do justice to the group’s chaotic energy. Additional props, ephemera and/or videos would have been more evocative of the collective’s interdisciplinary experiments, and a wall text describing the group’s ethos would have provided much-needed context. While some mystery might spark curiosity and generate buzz, visitors should not have to devote hours to post-visit research in order to fill-in the blanks of a poorly conceived exhibition.

A Voyage of Growth and Discovery, Sculpture Center

Michael Smith and Mike Kelley’s installation at Sculpture Center, A Voyage of Growth and Discovery, is a mash-up of art exhibit and burning man rave. Port-o-Potties mark the entrance, confusing the new visitor to the Center about whether there are bathrooms inside. The concept becomes slightly clearer upon entering the main exhibit space. Video Projections surround the room while the soundtrack fills the room. The installation is filled with jungle gym metal structures strewn with stuffed animals and other artifacts from the video. Towering over the entire room is a metal humanoid construction. The exhibit is a full-on immersive environment, occasionally feeling like a badly-attended rave. The videos track the adventures at Burning Man of the artist, Michael Smith, in the guise of his longtime character, Baby IKKI. The festival is not actually identified, however it is not hard to deduce. Baby IKKI is, for lack of a better description, a grown man dressed as and acting like a baby. The advantage of being fully surrounded by video screens is demonstrated by the impressive experience of the video’s climax of impressive pyrotechnics. However, the disadvantage is there is no way to escape when Baby IKKI creates and eats a dish that is thoroughly nauseating.

The work captures a sense of the bizarre in the culture of Burning Man, as various items are pulled out of the video and incorporated into the installation. At first the amalgam of different pieces is incomprehensible. While watching the video the significance of the different objects becomes clearer. However, many of the pieces never really make sense nor does there seem to be a coherent idea behind them. This does not prevent the whole installation from becoming quite exciting when the climax of the festival is shown on all the screens. Unfortunately, the video the rest of the time is alternatively boring, disgusting, or badly performed. Indeed, the weakest part of the installation is the portrayal of Baby IKKI, though the performance is clearly meant to be tongue-in-cheek, its artificiality is off-putting. The most interesting part of his schtick are people’s reactions, his eccentric character is merely run of the mill at Burning Man. There is much merit in recreating the feeling of an event through art. The installation is occasionally successful in evoking the atmosphere of an any-thing goes, drug-fueled festival. But nobody needs to watch a grown man dressed as a baby eat a mush consisting primarily of candy wrappers and all along with sand.

Looking In: Robert Frank's The Americans

2009 marks the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of Robert Frank's The Americans. The Met commemorates this photographic milestone with Looking In: Robert Frank's The Americans, a retrospective of the images featured in this celebrated book . As Jack Kerouac aptly describes in the book's introduction, Frank's work in this series captures "the humor, the sadness, the EVERYTHING-ness and the American-ness" of our country. America is a country of contradictions, both a beacon of equal opportunity and a place of racial segregation. These particular photographs, taken during a tense time in American history (1958-1969), do not ignore this reality, and initially created a stir within the nation over its depiction. By now, however, the controversy seems to have faded and the exhibition proudly displays all eighty-three photographs from the book in sequential order.

Frank once commented that his role as a photographer was one who is "always looking outside, trying to look inside, trying to say something that is true." His statement reads especially true of this series. Several of the shots literally embody this self-reflective comment, such as the opening image of the book, Parade, which looks into a home through two windows at two women with their faces obscured by an American flag hanging outside. Trolley--New Orleans, exemplifies Frank's role as both an outsider and a truth seeker. An exterior shot that peers through the windows of a packed streetcar, Trolley reveals the racial division between the African-American passengers seated in back and their white peers riding further up front. Frank succeeds in creating a true mosaic of American life at the time, often catching people off guard, with their backs to the camera or seemingly ambivalent to his presence.

In a letter to the Guggenheim requesting a fellowship (displayed in the exhibition), Frank refers to his work as a documentation. This exhibition, in its straightforward shots of the faces, buildings, streets, cities, and rural places that constitute America, reflects his desire to make a photographic record of America in the 50s and 60s. Furthermore, by displaying Frank's contact sheets, the viewer sees first hand the unedited version of Frank's film rolls, allowing him or her to participate in the show from a documentation standpoint. Although small snippets, the contact sheets make the "EVERYTHING-ness" of which Kerouac writes even more palpable. In this sense, we are truly "looking in" at Robert Frank's The Americans.

SculptureCenter: In Practice Projects, Marlo Pascual's Untitled

In the basement of the SculptureCenter there was a space reserved for the In Practice project series for emerging artists. When you walked down the staircase you were immediately struck by Marlo Pascual’s Untitled. The piece consisted of a large unframed black and white c-print of Elizabeth Taylor. Slicing through the image, right below Taylor’s right eyeball, was a fluorescent light bulb. The two pieces criss crossed one another in an X shape and the fluorescent light had the wire protruding in front of the image. A small rock was placed on the floor behind the edge of the fluorescent light, presumably to help stabilize the sculpture.

The slicing fluorescent bulb is the primary source of tension in this piece. Oriented along the axis of Taylor’s right eye the bulb extends both outward and inward. This axis creates tension between the portrait’s outward projection of glamour and the possible inward retrospection. The glossy surface of the digital print and the strikingly sophisticated pose in the portrait make it impossible for the viewer to forget this used to be a Hollywood starlet. This Hollywood reference provides an easy segway into the glamorous projected life style, but by using the black and white photo and an older Hollywood starlet Pascual forces us to look back upon the past, bringing about feelings of retrospection.

Three other elements brought tension to the piece as well; the chord, the light reflecting on the c-print, and the rock supporting the sculpture. The fluorescent bulbs’ chord was awkwardly placed in front of the image and then twisted around towards the rear side. If Pascual wanted the chord to be hidden it could have easily been positioned on the end resting on the floor, instead she seemed to want it front and center. Maybe she was trying to connect out outward projection and inward retrospection but somehow this attempt seemed to fall short. The highly reflective surface of the c-print worked well because it caused a distortion of the light and served as a nice reminder of the distortion of photography and projected imagery. The rock on the floor appeared to stabilize the sculpture and keep it upright but as allegory this inclusion left me with more questions than answers. Overall Pascual’s Untitled does a nice job of bridging the connection between projected glamour and a melancholy inward retrospection.

Towing the Line, Drawing Space: 40 Contemporary Dutch Artists Defining the Moment in Holland

Towing the Line, Drawing Space: 40 Contemporary Dutch Artists Defining the Moment in Holland is a group show at White Box Gallery. The show represents 40 contemorary artists of different ages and styles from Holland. All of the work is somehow related to drawing, whether directly or indirectly. This includes installation, sculpture and painting.
I found the exhibiton style to be unusual but welcoming. Salon style is not usually the way I associate work shown in NYC galleries. I think it became distracting to view some of the work in this way but others benefited from it. (Sometimes a weak work can start to look a lot better right next to a strong piece)
The show was dominated by expressive painting and drawing. Even installation work had a very hands on and expressive feel like the installation piece by Iris Van Dongen. Artists that stood out to me were Hans Broeck, and Charlotte Shlieffert, Berend Strick, and Sylvia Russell.
It was interesting to see such painterly work in a contemporary art show.
I did not see too many connections between the artists work nor a theme to the exhibition other than their connection to the line (drawing).
I think that doing a show Salon style at this point can be a bit distracting for most people. It can be too reminescent of an undergraduate art show or a folk art exhibit. It can also take away from some of the better work that needs space to breathe and capture attention. On the other hand it was great to see a group of artists who are not afraid to leave their mark in their work, not creating cold and minimal pieces but working from their gut. I am excited to see more dutch artists showing in New York.

Europäisch-Amerikanische Freundschaft

September 12 – October 17, 2009

Europäisch-Amerikanische Freundschaft is a group show at Gavin Brown featuring Ida Ekblad, Alistair Frost and David Hominal, three young European artists working in a variety of media. This ‘European American Friendship’ offers an opportunity to see the work of these artists who although exhibit widely throughout Europe are relatively new to the American art scene. Along with the 33 works presented, there is an interesting conversation that takes place between oeuvre and their titles.

Ekblad’s ‘found’ sculptures are mainly 3D forms created with the use of line (The Judge or Dusty Chimes of Chrome). However their positioning in the gallery space can be made visually challenging. Just viewed by themselves, one can appreciate the crisp forms, fluidity of the lines and try to form a connection with its title. But when these are viewed against the backdrop of her works on canvas (such as The Chief of Police or Nocturnal November), the sculpture is momentarily lost within the dramatic movement of her work. It takes a moment for the eyes to recover from the onslaught of the brush strokes and color to find the sculpture again.

Alternatively, the play of words bring an appealing dimension to Frost’s work, where the attention of the viewer not restricted to the painted surface alone but also goes back and forth between the title and the work. The very daring, easy but precise brush strokes are as remarkable as his use of color. While some of his works tend towards abstraction (damn, if I didn’t start walking in this direction for a reason), in others the stylized forms (what color tie would you say you are wearing) in conjunction with the titles make his work less of a generalization.

Was this particular exhibit curated as a response to the popularity of these artists in Europe with New York as their next logical career move or is it a step to bolster the ‘Friendship’? Whatever the reason; the ‘European American Friendship’ does give us a glance into the art of up and coming artists who might prove to be noteworthy milestones in contemporary art.

Store – a Matsune & Subal production

Store is a unique performance art piece located in the lower east side. This piece takes place over four days where the viewer can buy different performances in the skeleton on an abandoned storefront. Matsune and Subal are two artists who are selling their pieces in a marketable atmosphere. Daily object such as rolls of masking tape, sugar cubes and coffee filters are the only props they use as they try to attain fine art. The viewer is able to buy and then experience the performance once it has been chosen from the selections on a menu. Some of the options were sold out while others were said to be “a very, very good choice” or “hmm, that one is not so good” much like suggestions a waiter might give their dining patron. Through their tongue in cheek humor, the pair provides a few minutes of entertainment while still making a commentary about the business side of the art world.

Two of the menu choices included interacting with the public, whether it was an individual from the audience or the community from the local streets surrounding the store. After purchasing “Wall Street Waste”, the two artists lead the audience outside as they assemble a line of sugar cubes across a street while cars begin to back up waiting to pass down the street. Once the line of cubes was in place, Subal signals for the line of cars to continue down the street, crushing the cubes of sugar as they pass. “Eraserhead” consisted of Subal becoming a figure artist as he sketched the portrait of an audience member. His student, Matsune, then took his sketch and re-sketched her portrait on top of the original only using an eraser. The finished product was an envelope of eraser shavings that once depicted a portrait of the woman. The end products of most of their pieces are broken down remnants of their performance, much like the set in which they perform. Their piece entitled “the easiest way to watch twenty two dollars disappear” is a prime example of the final product that they produce. It is important to consider that the viewer is walking away from the store with the memory of the humoristic antidotes, yet there is no solid artwork that the customer purchases. “Store is a shop. Art is business. Come and buy!” is the slogan from the show’s flyer and it says it all. Using physical money to begin the process of making art shows the extreme tie that art has developed in connection with the economy. In today’s society art is made as a commodity, the creative aspect and process need to be taken out of the monetary form and relished, much like the store has provided.  

Genesis Breyer P-Orridge: 30 Years of Being Cut Up

30 Years of Being Cut Up at Invisible-Exports is a retrospective of Genesis Breyer P-Orridge’s collage and photographic works. The show follows the story of P-Orridge’s transformation of being taken apart and reassembled throughout h/er thirty-year journey to find a sexual middle ground. The creation of a “pandrogynous” being with h/er partner along with an interest in the sexual milieu of the 20th and 21st Centuries gives the works a perspective that is both admirable and not regularly seen.
The artwork takes cues from both personal experience and artistic movements like Dada and Surrealism through the use of photo collage and provoking imagery. The images take on complex range of subjects including gardens filled with severed heads to confrontational collages of genitalia and sexual activity. The juxtaposition in works such as Untitled (mail art to Jerry Dreva) combine nudes, English iconography, and young ladies in order to ask the viewer to reassess ideas associated with sexual, cultural, and personal identity.
The collages are only part of the gallery space. Also presented are images of P-Orridge’s own transformation from male to female as seen in Two Into One We Go. This photographic series and others bring the sometimes oversexed images down to a personal level. Shock value was the working method for the art that influenced P-Orridge, but s/he uses both shock and a photo-documentary style to connect to the audience. The straightforward approach to all of the artwork makes the idea of “being cut up” more than just stylistics, but a necessary link between private experience and public presentation.

K8 Hardy's first New York solo show

K8 Hardy is a major name in the less than major queer and new feminist movements. She co-founded LTTR, “a feminist genderqueer artist collective” which produces a yearly journal; she has ties to the music world, having often worked with Wynne Greenwood (Tracy + the Plastics) and JD Samson (Le Tigre, MEN); and she is an active visual artist.

Hardy's current show, “To All the G#%$! I've Loved Before,” at Reena Spaulings Fine Art no doubt speaks to her involvement in and influence by these movements. Her photographs consist of her (or sometimes her sister as her stand-in) and her multiple identities in our society—feminine, masculine, stereotypical, conformist. She plays with the concepts of beauty, gender, and sexuality in, what is to me, a very gritty way. Some of her photographs are out of focus. She makes use of the photogram technique, adding a ghostly image of her bra or middle finger to some of her prints during developing. Her two photos behind the wall at the left side of the gallery were bent and unframed making them more difficult to view for reasons other than their awkward positioning. Additionally, a few of the framed photographs from a prior series in the corral to the rear of the gallery were covered with coffee stains and paint splatters.

“To All the G#%$! I've Loved Before” is a success if humor is Hardy's goal. Many of her poses and costumes are reminiscent of characters one would see Amy Sedaris portray. However, if this show is meant to convey Hardy's role as activist in the queer and new feminist movements, she did not succeed. No one not already involved in those movements (or highly knowledgeable of the art world) would read much cultural criticism in this specific body of work.