Cady Noland Pinkertons Pyramid

an untitled cady noland sculpture at glenstone in 2024 comprised of a forklift-sized aluminum palette, with a smaller extruded aluminum palette on top, fresh from amazon, with its product sticker still attached, and a galvanized steel milk crate on top of that, stamped with the threat of the pinkertons coming after you if you steal it. in the background is a black rubber mat with a black injection molded stackable palette on it.
Cady Noland, Untitled, 2024, as installed at Glenstone in October 2024

Now that she’s been having some shows, Cady Noland is known to make changes to installations of her work, even dramatic ones, even last minute. So maybe it was not so surprising to realize she added a new work to the exhibition at Glenstone last October, which came so late in the process it did not appear on the museum’s downloadable checklist.

And while there were also shipping palettes from Amazon stacked in the gallery that were also not on the checklist, the status of this work, Untitled (2024), was only uncovered/confirmed three weeks later, when Alex Greenberger reviewed the show for ARTnews. And it took still more weeks to add it to the checklist, the only prepared information available to visitors.

screenshot of a diagram of a gallery of cady noland sculptures at glenstone, with numbered squares and other shapes to reference the various works. some shapes don't have numbers, and thus don't have titles or info provided, but at least one turned out to be a work loaned from the artist. there was time enough to put the square on the map, but somehow not to put the number or work info on the checklist.
No indication it’s even a work, yet there was time to add an unnumbered square next to the 6

At the time, I wrote that such a move was not an error: “This incompleteness, this inaccuracy, is part of the encounter; this disconnect between what you see and what you’re told is part of the experience.”

Well, now I wonder if it might have been omitted for reasons other than coy mystery. Because the most prominent elements of the work Noland added are a palette with the Amazon sticker still attached, and a milk crate stamped with a threat from the Pinkertons. The Pinkertons who chase down milk crate thieves, but who are most famous for attacking striking steelworkers on the orders of Andrew Carnegie and Henry Frick.

I had not realized that last summer, before the museum had fully reopened from its remodeling, Glenstone’s hourly workers voted to form a union, and that the Raleses had hired the same anti-union lawyers and consultants as everyone else—including Amazon. Kriston Capps reported on the union’s efforts and voting almost a year ago. That would have been right around the time Noland was installing her show.

There is not much information beyond Capps’ early reporting. The last post on the instagram account for Glenstone Museum Workers Union, affiliated with the Teamsters, was from November 22nd. It says two bargaining sessions were completed, in September and October–and that the November 2024 meeting had been canceled without explanation. A December meeting was TBD. Noland’s show opened October 17th, in what seems to be the middle of a breakdown of negotiations.

To drop a pyramid of unionbusting references in the center of the gallery could be read as a show of solidarity with the union. If anyone knew to look. Now the prolonged omission of the Pinkertons work from the checklist feels like it could have been a move to deflect or diminish the impact of Noland’s gesture of support.

Unless? Do we really know that Noland’s invocation of the Pinkertons thugs isn’t a shoutout to management, an homage to the Fricks of our day, the industrialist connoisseurs who bought basically every major piece of the artist’s work to come up for sale in the last twenty years? If it was, maybe Glenstone would have bought it. Or they would have at least included Noland’s loans in the documentation of the show.

Previously, related: Cady Loan’d

Forbidden Curators: Whitney Shuts Down Independent Study Program

four 20x16 inch panels in a row, close together, each painted a single color from the palestinian flag: green, red, black, white. this 1988 work by felix gonzalez-torres is untitled (forbidden colors), a reference to the israeli government's prohibition on these colors in the occupied territories, a ban which was briefly lifted by the oslo peace accords, but which has been turned into a global hasbara campaign to censor any criticism of israeli genocide and war crimes and to silence any support or bare acknowledgment of the humanity of palestinian people. this painting is in the collection of moca.
ISP alumnus Felix Gonzalez-Torres, “Forbidden Colors”, 1988, 20 x 67 in., acrylic on panel, collection MOCA

Extraordinary. The Whitney is burning down the Independent Study Program to save the Independent Study Program. Scott Rothkopf issued a statement suspending the ISP. He fired the new associate director, who had named him in her criticism of the censorship by senior museum administration of a pro-Palestinian capstone exhibition and performance last month by ISP participants. And he cited the absence of an ISP director as a reason to rethink the ISP altogether, without acknowledging that he had eliminated the ISP director’s job in February, before all this censorship started. Or became public.

Brian Boucher’s report on artnet has details, quotes, and links to previous incidents, including protests and callouts of trustees last week. The trustees’ involvement in arming Israel and supporting its settler-led ethnic cleansing of Palestinians is not a non-issue, but I think Rothkopf is no puppet; he is fully in control of this situation, and accountable for it. Pushing the timeline back, Dorothy Lichtenstein only died last year, and the Lichtenstein Foundation’s gift of their home and studio to the Whitney as a home for the ISP only took effect last year. We don’t have enough information yet to tell if we’re seeing the realization of the Lichtensteins’ vision for the ISP, or its betrayal.

Rothkopf’s statement crossed media paths with an open letter of support for the censored artists and curators, signed by more than 300 ISP alumni. On the top of their website, ispalumni.org, is Forbidden Colors, the 1988 work by ISP alumnus Felix Gonzalez-Torres, and an excerpt from his statement about the work as a sign of privileged solidarity with Palestinian life and freedom:

“This color combination can cause an arrest, a beating, a curfew, a shooting, or a news photograph. Yet it is a fact that these forbidden colors, presented as a solitary act of consciousness here in Soho, will not precipitate a similar reaction.”

As we’ve seen over the last year and a half, that fact has changed.

Get a Gonzalez-Torres Forbidden Colors (2021— ) whenever you need one