Category: art

Death And Venice

Untitled,
Felix Gonzalez-Torres: “All art and all cultural production is political.”
The NY Times report on the inclusion of Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ works in US Pavilion next year in Venice gives more information on what was included in the Guggenheim’s proposal. Here is what the pieces soud like to me, starting with the “never before realized” work, which will be installed in the entrance courtyard of the pavilion:

  • “two adjoining reflecting pools forming a figure eight, the sign of infinity” sounds like a pool version of, Untitled (March 5th), 1991, which is two round mirrors, side by side. The LA Times has more specifics, saying the 12′-diameter pools will be “based on 1992 drawings and notes submitted by the artist for the piece, originally intended for the campus of Western Washington University.” Curator Nancy Spector is probably one of only a handful of people who can pull off saying “As someone who is familiar with his sensibility, I like to think I would able to approximate what he wanted to do,” but still.
  • ” his largest light string,” refers to Untitled (North), 1993, a 12-string piece on permanent loan at Bard Untitled (America), a 12-string piece in the Whitney’s collection.
  • “a suite of 12 framed black-and-white photographs, an inventory of idealized men,” is probably Untitled (Natural History), a work which refers, not to twelve men, but to twelve descriptions of Theodore Roosevelt inscribed on the entrance to the American Museum of Natural History.
  • “a large paper stack from 1992” is the most intriguing. There are only four stacks dated from 1992. At first, I thought it was a tossup between Untitled, 1992/1993, which features a bird in the sky, a classic Felix image, but really, it’s only slightly larger than the other two. And besides, the date’s unique enough it would have been mentioned. Which means the other piece is the black-bordered one above, which is significantly larger than the rest.
    Like that “figure eight = infinity” bit, Carol Vogel provided cleanly didactic interpretations of Felix’s symbolism: “stacks of replenishable paper to represent the inevitability of death, strings of lights to represent dreams of a better world.” So it’s odd that a presumably easy-to-read “symbol” like a black border–which, on stationery and signage, has long signified a house in mourning–didn’t get a mention. Nor did the title: Untitled (Republican Years).

    • 1985 Act Up 1989 FU State Dept. 1996 Died 2007 Venice Biennale

    soldier_gives_candy.jpg

    Like death and taxes, the State Department will catch up with you. One day.
    From an interview Felix Gonzalez-Torres once did with Rob Storr

    For example, here is something the State Department sent to me in 1989, asking me to submit work to the Art and Embassy Program. It has this wonderful quote from George Bernard Shaw, which says, “Besides torture, art is the most persuasive weapon.” And I said I didn’t know that the State Department had given up on torture – they’re probably not giving up on torture – but they’re using both. Anyway, look at this letter, because in case you missed the point they reproduce a Franz Kline which explains very well what they want in this program. It’s a very interesting letter, because it’s so transparent.
    Another example: when you have a show with white male straight painters, you don’t call it that, that would be absurd, right? That’s just not “natural”. But if you have four Black lesbian sculptors from Brooklyn, that’s exactly what you call it, “Four African-American Lesbians from Brooklyn.”

    Now, ten years and a couple of months after his death, the State Department announced that Gonzalez-Torres’ work has been selected for the US Pavilion at next year’s Venice Biennale. Nancy Spector, who wrote the book on Felix–no, the other one; the one that Andrea Rosen didn’t write–will curate.
    According to the State Department press release, “For the exhibition, Ms. Spector will include a new work, made from a drawing by Mr. Gonzalez-Torres but unrealized in his lifetime.”
    As Felix’s Cuban–I mean, Cuban-American–countryman was famous for saying, somebody’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.
    Cuban-American Artist To Be Featured at International Exhibit [state.gov via artforum]
    previously: On Politics and Art

    Walker Center Nice

    I want to love the Walker Center’s Walker Channel video streams even more than I do.
    There was a chat between Rirkrit Tiravanija and writer Bruce Sterling, for example [here’s the Walker’s blog post about it]
    And Philippe Vergne talking with Dan Graham and his collaborators on his punk puppet opera Don’t trust anyone over 30.
    And of course, Tyler was on the edge of his seat, waiting to watch the knives fly in realtime during the Whitney Biennial recap with Philippe and Chrissie Iles.
    But unfortunately, the videos just aren’t doing it for me. They’re polite and non-confrontational to the extreme; they capture all of the tedium of a public event–including too-long intros and fawning, populist comments [Philippe actually asked Dan Graham, in his French accent, “Wat de heck am I looking at ‘ere?”]–with none of the excitement of being in the room.
    And while the Rirkrit/Bruce dialogue mashup probably seemed great on paper, it didn’t work out. It was obvious that, by personality or arrangement, Bruce was “supposed” to be the “host,” asking questions, but he couldn’t help but launch into his own set pieces about how many laptops he has and how he powers them. Rirkrit, bless his heart, managed to come off as deeply incurious, even though he was presumably there to be asked about his work.
    Finally, I don’t know if it’s my NYC-impaired hearing or some self-effacing Minnesota Nice thing about forcing people to listen harder by talking really quietly, but it’s nigh-impossible to hear what these kids are saying. Turn up the volume, people!
    So I’ll just wait politely here until these bumps get ironed out. Which might happen sooner if even one other museum in the country had as ambitious an online program…
    Walker Channel [channel.walkerart.org]

    Follow The 250,000 Bouncing Balls

    lucy_pullen_superballs.jpgJoel, an eagle-eyed greg.org reader sends in this tip:

    Maybe nobody in the history of advertising had thought to do this, but it would appear that an artist had. Lucy Pullen, a Canadian artist living in Victoria, BC, dumped thousands of superballs onto the streets of Halifax in 1997.

    Pullen has shown in London and extensively in Canada, too; not that there’s any monopoly on the idea of a mass ball bounce–we once rolled a dozen thrift shop bowling balls down a very long staircase in college in the middle of the night, a wildly ignorant, dangerous thing to do–but still, it’s interesting to see where and how an idea is manifest.
    “2500 Superballs,” 1997, Lucy Pullen in collaboration with Sandy Plotnikoff [iamvariable.com]
    Previously: the making of Sony Bravia’s bouncing superball ad

    Hiroshi Sugimoto Events We Will Unfortunately Miss, Vol. 4

    Hiroshi Sugimoto created a stage for a Noh performance at Dia; unfortunately, it was in October 2001, not a real hot time for cultural diversions in downtown New York City. Missed it.
    The Noh stage was reinstalled at the Mori Museum at Roppongi Hills, which we also missed.
    Now, tonight at the Hirshhorn, two musicians are premiering a piece created for the artist’s exhibition. Then after that, Sugimoto himself will perform as benshi, or stageside storyteller/narrator, for Kenzo Mizoguchi’s 1933 silent masterpiece, The Water Magician. Japanese silents are rarely, shown anywhere these days.

    6 and 7 pm: Specification Fifteen, a live world premiere of a new musical work created especially for the Hiroshi Sugimoto exhibition, Lerner Room. For more information about Richard Chartier and Taylor Deupree, visit their websites at http://www.3particles.com and http://www.12k.com.
    6:30 pm: Curator’s tour with Kerry Brougher, second level
    8 pm: The Water Magician, 1933, Ring Auditorium. Film courtesy of the collection of the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo.
    Please be advised that seating in the Ring Auditorium is limited, and we anticipate a high turn-out for this event. Ticket distribution for the film, The Water Magician, begins at 7:15 pm. Please form a line just outside the Emergency Exit doors to the right of the Information Desk. Guests may enter the auditorium beginning at 7:45pm. Entry to the auditorium will not be permitted after 8pm. Please plan your visit accordingly.

    I’m sure the lines are already out the door. It’d be great if the Hirshhorn had some ticketed events open only to big-time donors. Giving money for exclusive access to taxpayer-funded institutions is a Washington tradition…
    Hirshhorn After Hours [hirshhorn.si.edu, non-permanent link]
    Hiroshi Sugimoto programmed a Japanese cinema series at The Japan Society last fall [via twi-ny.com]
    Midnight Eye has an awesome overview of Japanese silent film and an interview with a leading benshi, Midori Sawato [midnighteye.com]

    Art Critic Smackdown

    I’ve always wondered why the New York Observer didn’t have an art critic, but mentioning it, well, that’s not how I was raised.
    Fortunately, Jerry Saltz was raised by wolves or something, because he doesn’t mind pointing out that the Observer’s art mentioner Mario Naves is an empty, conservative prig. The fact that it comes after a rousing ode to Duchamp’s urinal only makes it sweeter; and it takes “I know you are but what am I?” off the table as a Navesian retort.
    There should be more critic-on-critic smackdown events these days; charge ten bucks and raise some money for charity.
    Idol Thoughts, Idiot Wind [villagevoice.com]

    It’s Definitely Not The Pictures That Are Getting Small

    I’ve been a big fan and collector of Hiroshi Sugimoto’s work for over 13 years now [wow. Typing that just now makes me hyperaware of the passage of time, which is par for the course for Sugimoto.] So when I had a chance to meet the artist at a preview of his retrospective show at the Hirshhorn yesterday, I jumped.
    It’s really quite a gorgeous show; stunning, even, which I think is atypical of Sugimoto’s work. For all his conceptually driven series, he’s always produced extremely beautiful photographs, don’t get me wrong. And in the last few years, I’ve seen references to the importance of the old-school technical aspects of photography as well. I’m wary of reading it too much as a “Japanese” sensibility, too, even though the Japanese tradition of modernism and minimalism really is a worldview apart from that of the West; but it’s seductively easy to fall back on the myth of the Inscrutable Oriental–or worse, the pathetic, westernized Pop Zen–when praising his work.
    Still, let’s face facts: the man has photographed an icon of Buddhism in Kyoto [the sanjusangen-do temple], he’s designed a Noh stage and a Shinto shrine, and his longtime profession has been a dealer in Japanese antiques. And you can’t get much more self-consciously Japanese than all that. But maybe it’s like being an American in Paris being a Japanese in New York; your awareness of difference is enhanced.

    sugimoto_hirshhorn.jpg

    Back to the stunning, though. Sugimoto’s recent forays into architecture and spatial design are (coincidentally?) timed with a waning–or an impending extinction, to hear him talk about it–of photography as a medium for him. The recent discontinuation of his favored materials and the ascendance of digital photography are rendering him obsolete. Not wanting to go the Sally Mann route by adding another layer of meaning onto his work by choosing to homebrew his materials, Sugimoto said he’s just printing as much as he can while he can, and is looking to other mediums for his work.
    The result, oddly enough: giant prints. While some of his newest work, wax figure portrait photos and those mathematical model images, were always larger-than-life-size, with this show, Sugimoto has gone back and printed older work in seductive, giant formats. There are museum dioramas, a movie theater, and, stunningly, seascapes. These giant prints are really objects now, not images; conceptually, maybe that’s always been the case, but it’s certainly a much clearer assertion of that idea than Sugimoto’s ever made. This is doubly true for the dramatically lit Seascapes in the massive, blackout gallery [the museum removed some non-loadbearing walls, and they should never put them back; this is probably the most breathtakingly sublime space the Hirshhorn has ever had.]
    But I’m not sure that’s entirely a compliment. Large prints are the new market hotness, and since his most popular works, the seascapes, had long ago sold out their editions, there was little opportunity for the artist to be rewarded for his pioneering work. Now, though, he gets a piece of the action himself, and new collectors get the impressive Sugimoto-brand wall candy they crave; it’s win-win. I guess.
    But then I have to look back and wonder; it wasn’t “development” who tore down the movie palaces in Sugimoto’s now-deeply nostalgic photos; it was developers. At one point, his work was not only beautiful, it was marginalized, radical, even, as well as conceptually rigorous. And now, well, this show just arrived from the Mori Art Museum at Roppongi Hills, and you can’t get any more “developer” than that. [And I say that as someone counting developers among my family and close friends. But still.]
    Of all people, I’m stoked when artists have the freedom to pursue their vision, and I wouldn’t want to stick Sugimoto in the twee realm of master photographic craftsman if his interests lie elsewhere. But at the same time, when I am instantly blown away by beauty in art, I have to admit, I’m a bit skeptical.
    I took an old catalogue for him to sign (Sugimoto’s actually doing a signing and a speech this evening, starting at 6, but we can’t make it), and he graciously dashed off a dramatic “S” and some illegible stuff with a silver pen. When I got home, though, I compared it to a catalogue he’d signed for me eight years ago; it was sober, meticulous cursive, as if he were signing a will, not an autograph. And somehow that seems to make sense.

    Hiroshi Sugimoto at the Hirshhorn
    Previously: greg.org on sugimoto

    Check Out The Ass On That One

    I fired off an email to Charlie Finch’s editor/wingman last night, and even though I’m a ridiculous apprentice of nothing, he graciously favored me with a reply. If only I had a nicer rack, he might’ve gotten me a group show somewhere.

    From: greg.allen on behalf of Greg Allen
    Sent: Mon 2/13/2006 9:26 PM
    To: Walter Robinson
    Subject: You really need to let Charlie go start a blog of his own
    Hey Walter,
    I have to tell you, Charlie Finch’s columns have been prurient and sexist for quite some time, and I’m sure it has a following among an older, hairy-eared, mouthbreathing microsegment of Artnet’s readership, but to many others, including myself and many collectors, dealers, and artists I’ve spoken with about him over the years–men and women alike, including several of the female artists who have been objectified and diminished in print by Finch’s pawing prose– his writing presents an unenlightened, retrograde blight. It’s offensive and uncalled for. It’s sexist and demeaning in a blatant way that was long ago identified as such by a civil society. Artnet’s continued publication of Finch’s writing leads one–me, at least–to conclude that you and Artnet support or at least assent to Finch’s POV, even if it is under the guise of editorial independence.
    Seriously, his demeaning discussions of female artists are the gender equivalent of racist asides, the kind even Strom Thurmond eventually learned not to voice publicly; Trent Lott, of course, learned that lesson the hard way, and it cost him his leadership post and bully pulpit. It’s long past time for Finch to pay the same price. It’s not like you’ll be silencing him, of course; only disavowing his demeaning view of women and their art. I’m sure a wheel as squeaky as Finch will fulfill Artnet’s 2006 prognostication and launch a blog of his own. By his–and apparently your–criteria, the only qualifications that matter in the art world are a penis and a willingness to flog someone with it.
    For now, I’ll refrain from posting this as an open letter on my own blog, but judging from the rising drumbeat online, it’s only a matter of time before headlines of Artnet Sexism and Misogyny start propagating on- and off-line. I don’t think I’ll wait too long, though, to start talking up dealers and artists about Finch and Artnet, starting with the ones I buy most regularly from–and the ones who advertise on Artnet.
    Regards,
    Greg Allen
    —
    From: Walter Robinson 7:41 am (5 minutes ago)
    To: Greg
    Subject: who is greg allen?
    ha ha, thanks for your comments, as stupid as they are. W

    Well Duh, Because It’s Gus Van Sant.

    warhol_vansant.jpg
    Finally, someone’s saying something about the inconsistencies, conflicts and caprices of the Warhol Authentication Board, which is wreaking quiet, opaque havoc on the market for Andy Warhol’s artworks. The BBC is showing a documentary on the Board tonight on BBC1 called “Andy Warhol: Denied”.
    The above self-portrait, from 1964-65, for example, which Warhol gave as payment to Richard Eckstract, an important collaborator in Warhol’s films, was subsequently declared inauthentic.
    Is this a real Warhol? [telegraph.co.uk via boingboing]

    What If Sprawl Is The Real Entropy?

    Maybe we have the whole Smithsonian entropy thing wrong.
    In 2002, Artforum’s Nico Israel whined with condescension about the homogenous strip mall & fast food landscape he had to endure on his road trip from one perfectly isolated Earthwork [Spiral Jetty] to another [Double Negative].
    Then, as the Jetty has re-emerged year after year, visitor traffic has increased dramatically, along with press coverage and local awareness and appreciation.
    Road signs to the Jetty appear in the middle of what was once unmarked desert scrub.
    Tour buses idle where once only high-clearance 4WD’s were advised to go. The Dia Center takes ownership [?] of the Jetty.
    And Smithson’s widow, fresh on the heels of fabricating a piece that didn’t exist during the artist’s lifetime, mentions offhandedly that she doesn’t see how adding rocks and regrading ramps would conflict with her husband’s idea of entropy.
    And now, the industrial detritus that has long defined the Jetty’s site for visitors–and, to some extent at least, for the artist himself, who chose Rozel Point as much for the abandoned oil derricks as for the water’s reddish-pink tint–has been cleaned up and hauled away, deemed “an eyesore” by the State [as if anyone had bothered to look there until a couple of years ago].
    Should we care? Conventional art world wisdom holds that Smithson’s entropy dictated a hands-off approach to his work. Que sera sera, dust to dust. Nature will take its inexorable course; stopping, fighting, or reversing this [d]evolution through restoration, maintenance, or re-creation is doing a disservice to Smithson’s ideas and his legacy.

    spiral_doily.jpg
    “The Spiral Doily,” picked up in Utah on
    my last trip to the Jetty

    But in his seminal Artforum essay of 1966, “Entropy and the New Monuments,” the examples of entropy Smithson cited weren’t ivy-covered ruins and rubble, but New Jersey, Philip Johnson and the “cold glass boxes” of Park Avenue, and suburban sprawl. “The slurbs, urban sprawl, and the infinite number, of housing developments of the postwar boom have contributed to the architecture of entropy.”
    Just this week, Reuters reported on a land use study that shows Suburban Sprawl may be an irrestistable force in the US. When he sited Spiral Jetty in BF Utah, was Smithson building against New Jerseyification, or just ahead of it? Is it possible–or is it just convenient acquiescence to suggest–that roped-off “Nature”-driven degradation is not, in fact, entropy, but Romanticism? Maybe letting “civilization” have its paving, scrubbing, sprucing up, licensing, Acoustiguiding, Ritz Carlton Jettyway Weekend Packaging way with the Jetty isn’t closer to the end game Smithson envisioned?
    Entropy and the New Monuments [robertsmithson.com]
    Suburban sprawl an irresistible force in US [reuters]

    Artnet Dorks Out Over Dorkbot

    Wow, Artnet associate editor Ben Davis got just what he wanted for Christmas: the chance to write at length about art and technology. He covers the video game-inspired show at Pace Wildenstein in Chelsea last month [generally, eh] and better-reviewed shows like Bit Edition‘s multi-artist animation collaboration in Brooklyn with vertexList, and a Dewan Brothers show at Pierogi [they’re like the Harry Partch of synthesizers, very DIY.] But he saves most of the love for Dorkbot, aka Gearhacking: The Gathering, that monthly rendezvous of people doing wack stuff with gear.
    Technical Knock-Outs [artnet]

    Cleanup Crew: 1, Entropy: 0 At The Spiral Jetty

    From The Salt Lake Tribune, 1/21/06:

    Spiral Jetty cleanup: Utah officials last month removed several tons of junk from Rozel Point, the area along the Great Salt Lake’s north shore that is home to Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty.
    “Anyone who has made the trip to see the famous Spiral Jetty . . . has passed through the area and certainly noted that it was an eyesore,” says Joel Frandsen, director of the state Division of Forestry, Fire and State Lands, which supervised the cleanup along with the state Division of Oil, Gas and Mining.
    Workers removed 18 loads of junk and plugged more than a dozen abandoned oil wells.

    I spoke to someone at Forestry for some more detail. Included in that list of eyesores are the burned out trailer, that weird amphibious tank thing, the abandoned cars, basically most of the industrial detritus that fed into visitors’ sense of Smithsonian entropy. [Todd discusses this and has pictures of the now-gone junk on From The Floor.]
    And about those oil wells, it turns out the oil is quite viscous, kind of tar-like, and it pools very slowly over the years. Some might say that for Smithson, that’s not a bug; it’s a feature. Well it’s moot now.
    The project took a couple of weeks and supposedly focused only on sovereign land: state-owned shoreline, which is determined by elevation [i.e., the land, below 4,201′ I think, which is about four feet higher than the Jetty itself. Depending on the terrain, a 4′ change in elevation can take you quite a ways inland, although I can’t see it going all the way up to the trailer…hmm.]
    There was also talk of negotiating an easement for parking, so that visitors won’t have to park on the road or trespass when they park beyond the “end of road” sign.
    I didn’t get the sense that the Dia Center was involved in the project in any way, but we’ll see. I have some queries into them at the moment. The deadline for bids for a concession to operate a capuccino-and-smoothie cart during the peak Jetty months of June-October will begin March 15. OK, I made that last one up. I hope.
    SLTrib Visual Arts [sltrib.com, thanks to Monty for the heads up]
    Previous greg.org-on-Jetty action