Entries in galleries (5)

Monday
Sep292008

All in One Day: The Gallery Give-Away in Changing Economies


I’m only mildly embarrassed that I’ve been using those gallery give-aways, ubiquitous paper stacks of art, as gift-wrapping paper. These gallery give-aways are a trend that, no matter when they may have actually begun, first took hold in the work of Felix Gonzalez-Torres. But this sense of there being a hold on something, the force of it holding together a loose pile of candy as the body of a man, for example, has since been lost. Increasingly these give-aways feel like just another promotional item and my using them for my own purposes a do-it-yourselfer’s intervention in a system gone wrong.

Last week I grabbed some paper from the pile of an artist who seemed to be mimicking Christopher Wool and Gonzalez-Torres at once (ie really good wrapping paper, and I wanted it bad enough to take more than one). And only a few doors down I also grabbed a give-away from Meredyth Sparks. This was from a stack of empty paper record sleeves sitting beneath a work depicting a record player - and printed on the sleeve was that same record player - clever. In the course of the day it became jumbled in the messy pile of press releases I was snapping off the counters.

But there was so much stuff for free that day that I was becoming interested again. It wasn’t until I got home and really looked that I discovered the record player on the record sleeve was the famous one that allegedly smuggled in the gun to Andreas Baader, of the Baader Meinhof Group, so that he could kill himself in prison. And it also wasn’t until then that I realized the poster I had grabbed from the pile actually WAS Felix Gonzalez-Torres in collaboration with Christopher Wool.

The difference between Gonzalez-Torres and Sparks is important. Gonzalez-Torres' stacked papers were a reference to the history of sculpture - in his love for a dying man, his lover and the figure of his public, he re-inhabited the continuity of art and removed whatever was left of its autonomous pedestal. Spark’s record sleeve seems to belong to the more jaded present, nostalgic for a politicized moment before the Reagan era, that while having its hold upon the world for a while failed to take hold of history. What does it mean to be offered and to take the gun of a known terrorist and alleged suicide? By posing this question in our hands Sparks is at least pressing upon the role of cultural production in an age of aesthetic ambivalence and withdrawal of judgment.

Martha Rosler, on the other hand, makes vivid the contradictions of our mediated lives while stridently refusing ambivalence. Before entering her show one was forced to put a quarter in a turnstile, providing funds for Artists Against War and United for Peace and Justice. On the far side of this turnstile the art gallery noisily exposed the machinery of the info-tainment complex, where high heels and amputated limbs are of the same economy.

Before you dropped your quarter, however, there was a pile of give-away posters of suit-and-tie pretty boys against a backdrop of scorched-earth fire, marked on the back by the words “please post.” At the entrance, the free give-away and its supplicating call for action was different than the drop of an extorted quarter in the turnstile, marking off a different space completely between one side of the turnstile and the other.

Just across the strreet was Xu Zhen’s “ShanghART SUPERMARKET,” a replica of the 24/7 convenience store promoted by the Chinese Government as a form of resistance against American Capitalism, while appearing in its very form. Here, I purchased an empty shrink-wrapped package of a bar of Chinese soap for $1.50. I tried to buy something that expressed the larger work of art, and in retrospect wished I’d chosen something else and even more. Beyond its literal emptiness - everything in the store is only the empty shell of its packaging - my participation as a consumer was conflicted by the variety of brand identities suspended somewhere between American capitalism and China’s new economy. Even so, the ShanghART convenience store sapped out the contradiction visible across the street of all of its power, neutralizing difference within mass produced offerings of toothpaste and condoms, exposing its emptiness with the joyful assurance of our full participation in its economy.

Joanna Spitzner’s little book, 399.75 hours, I got for free at Eyebeam. It documents the project “The Creative Class,” including the fundraising effort of the Joanna Spitzner Foundation, a non-profit that funds artists. In this case, Spitzner took a summer job as a cashier at the local Price Chopper, and recorded the daily events from this other side of the register. You can put down this book at any time and pick it up at another place without knowing the difference as the world goes by on a conveyor belt. At the same time, the most trivial moments, such as discovering EZ-scan temporary tatoos in a drawer, or knowing it is someone’s birthday, bring into high relief the absurdity and sweetness of the world.

Spitzner aims to render institutions and the economy transparent, and in turn how people are shaped by these. The artists she sponsored, Michael Swatt and Thomas Gokey, record their own labor as well . On the accompanying CD the former is painting energetically with loud music and on stage in a local bar; the latter is listening at length on the phone to a biochemist about how to analyze the chemistry of his tears. Michael Swatt asked for $17.50 an hour, Thomas Gokey $8.16 an hour. In the end, Swatt was chosen for the Syracuse Biennial, and Gokey could barely cover the cost of his materials, but he did get a free coffee mug from the biochemical sales team.

Finally, the real score of the day is that I was one of the last to sign a contract to “Adopt Lenin.” Yevgeniy Fiks rescued Lenin memorabilia, buying 90 of these little monuments to Lenin from eBay auctions, and giving them all away for free under the condition that they never be profited from “in any shape or form.” The gallery contract reads, “I will be the sole holder of this object for the remainder of my life unless I pass it on to someone or an institution without monetary gain or tangible benefit to me, and only after having the recipient sign a copy of this same form. Upon my death the object will go to my heirs with same restrictions attached.”

An interesting comparison is the pencil I bought for a dollar from Phoebe Washburn. Printed with the words “This is not a pencil,” the pencil declares that since it has been ordained as art it must never be sharpened. But the contract does not in fact exist, pencils are inadequate for binding signatures, and her DIY economy is exposed in this, enjoying the fragility of the boundaries between art and life.

Signing Fiks’ contract defines my participation as part of a work whose ultimate stake is in my future death, and the deaths of all of those who adopted Lenin with me. Pinned to the wall in an art gallery, a self-defined community is posed in declaration of something apart from the economy of auctions and back room sales, even while both auctions and back room sales are exactly what have made it possible. Like Gonzalez-Torres, Fiks has re-inhabited the conditions of art and refined a community according to its terms. That this community has retracted from the larger public of the more casual and weakened gallery give-away is what constitutes it, re-trenching value from within the specific form of patronage of the gallery system and making it visible to the public at large.

By Catherine Spaeth

Image Credits: Felix Gonzalez-Torres, "Untitled", 1993, In conjunction with Christopher Wool,Printed paper, Endless copies,courtesy of Andrew Edlin Gallery; Meredyth Sparks, from 1977, 2008, Digital scan, aluminum foil, glitter, vinyl, 26.5 x 40 inches (67.3 x 101.6 cm)courtesy of Elizabeth Dee; Martha Rosler, Invasion, 2008, photomantage, 30x53", courtesy of Mitchell-Innes and Nash; Zu Xhen courtesy of James Cohan; Joanna Spitzner courtesy of Joanna Spitzner; Yevgeniy Fiks courtesy of Winkleman Gallery, Martha Rosler, The Gray Drape, photomontage,40x30", courtesy of Mitchell-Innes and Nash.

Wednesday
Jul162008

Edward Winkleman: Gallerist and Haberdasher


With shirts on a rack and John McCracken by the foot, the boundaries between art and fashion are falling away in giddy purveyance at Ed Winkleman’s gallery. Curated by artists Christopher K. Ho and Ivin Ballen, the press release of "The Shallow Curator" states that this is “a summer group exhibition with neither urgency nor depth. The exhibition skims the surface of art-making, buoyed by such concerns as an artist’s sense of style.” Even the word “style” thins away from the consistency and substance of art historical proper names (the clothing is designed by George McKracken, and the John McCracken is a "forgery") and enters the simultaneously more capricious and culturally determined realm of fashion. The shallowness is real - with humor and the guise of sheer laziness there is avoidance of the “seriousness” of a theme. In conversation Ed Winkleman described it as “the smartest, dumbest show ever,” and the artists worried over whether or not a critic could even be interested in this show, laughing at the thought that it might be known in the future as “the show that no critic could review.”

This humorous bemoaning of the absence of critical understanding towards the curatorial project is an art world cliché, and “The Shallow Curator” joins such recent conversations with guffaws. It is still recently that Damien Hirst’s Levi’s line was seen on the Gagosian runway, and that Triple Candie’s exhibition of unauthorized Cady Noland knock-off’s, or the monographic retrospective of a fictitious Lester Hayes, caused a stir. By the time these two extremes - the blatant commercialism of Damien Hirst and Triple Candies’ critique of the object and the role of the nonprofit in the New York art world - reach The Shallow Curator, any dialectic between them has been sapped.

For historical comparison, there is the fictitious John Dogg, allegedly created by gallerist Colin de Land and artist Richard Prince, who in 1986 hung Econoline wheel covers on the wall of Lisa Spellman’s 303 Gallery. Here is Mitchell Algus describing what he valued about the work in 2003:
In blithe retrospect, Dogg's show was casually prescient, anticipating Neo-Geo's evolution into the proactive, materially ascetic mode of institutional critique. This shift in focus— from the accessories of power to the social organization of power—was a moral one. It shed in one shot the congenial complicity of the 80s art world. Dogg's was the smart, "I can live without that," frills-free version. Just right for the then impending bust.

The Shallow Curator is notably without prescience or shift, and avoids altogether the gesture of institutional critique. Gisel Florez’s photographs of vicious dogs ripping apart cheesy but glamorous accessories are made not in order to critique planned obsolescence but to generate more commissions for her work. One can imagine such an image very differently in the hands of Barbara Kruger. Likewise, “The Spirit’s” invocation of John McCracken for “Art Within Reach” is a spoof of the new age nostalgia mystique of Carol Bove. For all it’s shallowness and humor, this show has legible intentions, and the curators conclude, “If there is an argument at all, it is to reconsider the disinterested - or “shallow” - eye of modernism, not in order to critique it but in order to expand it.”

This disinterested, shallow eye of Modernism occupies a space without concern for either aura or effect, allowing humor to fill in the blank. But The Shallow Curator’s appeal to modernity is also made with an interest in beauty and the quality of the work, frankly understood as high end luxury goods. It is for this reason that I became interested in interviewing Ed Winkleman more specifically about his gallery’s identity, known largely through the unmoderated populism of his blog. With thousands of hits a day, it is not the postings themselves that draw the attention but the heated dialogue that ensues. What can occur is that the gallery’s identity is at once subjected to the vitriolic contempt of those who think they know it, and at the same time become lost in the fray. I felt a need to hear more specifically from Ed about his gallery programming and its success in defining an identity. The exhibition described above provides an interesting context for the following interview with Ed Winkleman:

CS: What is at stake in defining a gallery around "conceptual art," and what are its boundaries as you see them?

EW: I am somewhat hesitant to go into into too much detail on the blog because the blog is somewhat polarized between anti-conceptualist formalist and pro-conceptualist, and I’m going to throw this in here, pro-conceptualist-formalist, because the more I think of it I don’t really have much interest in anti-formalist conceptualism... I myself have seen tons of conceptualist art that hasn’t raised the bar for formalism - there would need to be in my idea of conceptual art that it must be visual, it must be compelling visually. I see what conceptualist artists are doing today as very consciously pushing past what’s been done before. What I mean by that is, and this is true for all the artists I work with, and why a lot of what our program turns out to be is art history...you have to know your art history pretty well.

Jennifer Dalton is a good example of this, she has a very firm grasp of art history, her work takes visual achievements of other artists and pushes past them, using their vocabulary in ways that accomplish new things more conceptually. In “This is not news” she was dealing with a topic that she is very well known for which is women and disparity in the arts. It’s very straightforward and clearly referencing Felix Gonzalez Torres, so she’s taking this vocabulary that people know already and what Felix was doing with it was perhaps more poetic than what Jen’s doing, but because it existed as art already she was able to pull it forward.

CS: What’s interesting about it is that when people were first defining themselves as Conceptualists, when Kosuth was first defining what Conceptual Art is he was saying “We are against morphology,” and here you have someone who has this very critical sociological perspective who is reinhabiting this morphology. When people talk about conceptual art sometimes they want to make a boundary, and Alexander Alberro limits Conceptual Art from 1966-1977 and after that refers to it as “post -conceptual.” One of the reasons for at least bracketing off the earlier Conceptual Art off from the present is that they were responding to Modernist art criticism, they were responding to Modern art and we’re no longer responding to Modernism in the way that they were.

EW: I would agree that Conceptual Art has a beginning and ending as a “large C” movement, just as every other 20th century movement did, so I am using small “c” conceptualist. I would also agree with anyone that good formalists are working with interesting concepts - John McCracken is a really good example of a formalist who leans it against the wall and kind of leans into conceptualism. Where I became involved in these definitions through the blog was among the camp who began to argue that “conceptualist” as it was broadly being used is anti-aesthetic, and I don’t think it is. If you look at the progression of formalist art it is often at the edge of an aesthetic that people would call ugly, that people would not have thought at the time were necessarily formalist achievements, even though today we would argue they were, and so my ongoing response to folks who think that the conceptualists are anti-aesthetic is that no, they are pushing the boundaries. The artist is free to say it is art, to define beauty, to define aesthetics. So when contemporary formalists describe the work at our gallery as "anti-formalist" or "anti-aesthetic" my response is to a) feel it’s not their role to define that for other artists and b) conclude that they are perhaps missing something, that they have a closed set of choices or values about art.

CS: Do you feel pigeonholed into defining conceptualism?

EW: No I talk about it all day, but I feel pigeonholed in defending its value in the context of beauty, and again, in coming from Ohio, a rusty bridge to me is stunning, this [pointing to a piece by Ivin Ballen] is actually an exquisitely beautiful piece to me, it’s gorgeously composed, it’s gorgeously painted, and yet it’s referencing graffiti, it’s referencing duct tape, it’s referencing a whole bunch of things that one might not see as beautiful, but this is the Rauschenbergian argument...can you find beauty in everyday objects? Yes you can.

CS: So you also have artists like Jennifer Dalton, Yevgeniy Fiks, and Christopher K. Ho, all people who are doing sort of sociological/ethnographic conceptual work, and some of them, would you say all of them, are engaging in art history?

EW: Yevgeniy is sort of interesting in that he’s not engaging in art history as much as he’s so aware of his art history (he teaches art history) the choices he makes are made very specifically because of that awareness. Here are some paintings where he is positioning them between the Social Realist style and Sots Art, a postmodernist sort of cynical ironic painting, and both of these are sort of kitschy, so he is interested in the middle ground. Painting these portraits could only be done with a full knowledge of the critique of both. Pure formalists will only embrace a movement or rejection of that movement and advance it, he is actually going back in time and situating himself right between two other movements, not because he sees this as an advance, not because he sees it as a matter of rejecting, but because he sees very well what those two movements did politically, and he feels the best way to represent these American communists is to balance these two out.

He’s done something else that I see defining the difference between the formalists and the small ‘c” conceptualist camps which is that he’s not invested in a medium to the point of having to defend it, he’s not a painter, he’s not a photographer, so media serves his ideas - but he is a good painter!

CS: And this is something that the latest conceptual art is now taking full ownership of: a strong return to studio practice. I’m really interested in people like Joy Garnett, I think her paintings are so lusciously beautiful, but that it’s also a conceptual practice that’s holding it together.

EW: Can I say that Joy is a really good example in that where - and I haven’t been able to say this on my blog, only because when I do people take it personally and that kind of disintegrates into bickering and unpleasantness - but Joy is a wonderful example of an artist who is painting because it’s one really solid way to explore what she’s interested in, not because she’s invested in it, she’s invested in ideas, the difference goes back to dumb like a painter, she’s not dumb like a painter she’s a scientist. The difference in my mind between the formalists and the conceptualists is that the formalists are - I’m going to really regret saying this - but they are still stuck in Modernism, stuck in the essence of their media, and the folks who have rejected that and see media as a tool for their ideas are more interesting to me, because I reject the essentialism of modernism, the question stopped being what is the essence of art and became what is art, and that’s the more interesting question.

CS: Marian Goodman started with Broodthaers, but I don’t know that you could say she had a program, and that you could say this about many of the older gallerists, that they kind of just went intuitively for who they liked and lined them up. Do you think it’s different now, at a time of branding and corporate identity, that being known as a gallery that specializes in conceptual art is of an historical necessity bound to a gallery system that has changed?

EW: There’s actually three ideas in that question, one is that the model that Marian Goodman is known for is not being rejected by every dealer, I would say that Zach Feuer is following that, he talks about his gallery as having evolved in the same way, these are the artists he thinks are important and interesting, however I think we are at this point trained in terms of thinking of a program, becoming specialists, and that probably is just a sign of the times, having a specialty is expected in any field, but it’s also a response to an overwhelming amount of information, to have the faith in your own eye, that Marian Goodman, or Zach Feuer just down the street is rare, because it is demonstrating an amazing amount of faith in what you are doing.

Why did programs become popular in the first place? About 35 years ago there were people who began to specialize, Edith Halpert, for example, specifically American Art, but now we are seeing that dealers can write with incredible precision about the artists they are working with, so what led to that are two things: one, they are starting to see themselves in more creative terms, and I think that stems from the fact that a lot of artists, art historians, or critics became dealers, with creative visions, and the number of people who can live as working artists has exploded, and so like every other field when you have that much to process, to organize, specialization becomes really attractive, and so I have admiration for Marian and for Zach. When I began noticing that Marian and Zach were not following that program model it started to make me wonder whether that was a better path, and I don’t know, I think I’ve somewhat been pigeonholed as a conceptualist dealer, and I don’t mind that because I love conceptualist work, and yet I have a few artists who I don’t think of that way and I love working with them, Christopher Johnson is a really good example.

CS: I’m using the words branding and corporate identity because not too long ago there was a posting on your blog about how you used to have this other gallery, and what this gallery was going to be and that you were refining your vision, and you used the word branding,it came up in your writing.

EW: I do discuss it in those corporate terms. But the idea of assessing a gallery as a brand is at first to recognize that each of the artists you carry is themselves a brand, and so your umbrella brand had better never compete with or undercut or interfere with your individual product brands, so it is an awareness that you have an umbrella brand. Of even Gagosian, even Zach or even Marian Goodman, you would say whether Marylyn Minter either belongs or doesn’t belong with those galleries, even if you don’t think they have a specialized brand they do, there is a loose brand that definitely has a place to be discussed as such.

CS: So to be clear, you don’t want your gallery to be identified purely with conceptual art?

EW: I do want my gallery to be identified with conceptual art, I don’t want my gallery to be identified exclusively as a conceptualist gallery. I strongly believe in conceptualism, at the point where we are a lot of the most interesting art that’s happening right now is conceptualist, but knowing that the spiral will continue around, and knowing that artists who have a conceptualist practice at the moment may veer into a more formalist mode, these are artists that I want to keep working with. And the reason I want to work with conceptualist artists is that I come out of their studio visits with my head just throbbing with new ideas and I love that, and I don’t get that anywhere else, this is the most intense education I can get, and it’s not from a book, this is as living, breathing, of-a-second kind of education that I can get, and that’s incredible, that’s the real thrill of working with living artists.

By Catherine Spaeth

Image credits: George McKracken, 2009 Spring line, Available at Bergdorf Goodman and other fine stores, Installation view; Gisel Florez, Exquisite Taste (Olive), 2007,Archival Inkjet Print, 21” x 28”, Edition of 10; The Spirit, John McCracken, 2008, Aquaresin, fiberglass, 39 x 14 x 3, Available in any finish; Jennifer Dalton, This Is Not News, 2006, 5 strings of 100 light bulbs, ink on colored paper, string, Dimensions variable (each string 101 feet), Edition of 10; John McCracken, Gold, 2006, Resin, fiberglass, plywood, 93 x 16 x 3 1/2 inches, 236.2 x 40.6 x 8.9 cm, Courtesy the artist and David Zwirner, New York; Ivin Ballen, HEAVEN, 2008, Fiberglass, aquaresin, acrylic, absorbent ground, gouche, 39” x 29” x 6”; Yevgeniy Fiks, Portrait of Jarvis Tyner (Communist Party USA), 2007,Oil on canvas, 36" x 48"; Joy Garnett, Noon, 2007, Oil on canvas, 54" x 60"; Kevin Zucker, The Shallow Painting (conceptual drawing of actual painting...don't have good image of work yet), 2008,Pencil, watercolor, silkscreen and inkjet on canvas,76.5" x 52.5", Courtesy the artist and Greenberg Van Doren Gallery; Ivin Ballen, Speakers (2-Way), 2007, Fiberglass, Aquaresin, absorbent ground, acrylic, gouache, oil, stereo components, Dimensions variable.

Monday
May122008

After May: Paula Cooper's Inaugural Show, 1968


During the auction house bidding already begun over at Artworld Salon, we have to fess up to an artworld driven as much by history and the engaged dialogue of criticism as by the numbers game. That this awareness hits us in May 2008, the 40th year anniversary of May 1968, is the sad fact of our war and disaster-ridden time. Reading Arthur Danto’s take on the student take-over of Columbia doesn’t assuage the mood. He writes, “I have a kind of theory that when great social changes are about to take place, something happens in the arts first - think of Romanticism and the French Revolution...” and that “Columbia students back then had little interest in advanced art as such.”*

In France they already thought they knew this about America. The 1966 student manifesto “On the Poverty of Student Life” explains that Americans did not have a theory and as a result their actions ‘were spontaneous mass movements which collapsed because they proved incapable of grasping more than the incidental aspects of alienation,”and that American students would never come to understand that everyday life is controlled by the “psycho-humanist police force.”** Because the events of May were so huge in Paris, and artists so involved, artists there were faced with how to continue to practice on the heels of May - one example is that the Comite du Salon de la Jeune Peinture committed itself to the Communist Party, desiring to continue the project of the Atelier Populiare to change the structure of the artist’s relation to capital.

In the New York October of 1968, Paula Cooper’s inaugural gallery show was the “Exhibition to Benefit the Student Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam.” Along with Lucy Lippard and Ron Wolin the exhibition was primarily curated by Robert Huot, whose work was at that time traveling in “The Art of the Real,” MoMA’s USIA-funded show, just closed in September and about to open in Paris. Lucy Lippard described the Paula Cooper show as “a kind of protest show against the potpourri peace shows with all those burned doll’s heads,” and the first benefit exhibition of non-objective art.*** The statement of the exhibition was that:

“These fourteen non-objective artists are against the war in Vietnam. They are supporting this commitment by contributing major examples of their current work. The artists and the particular pieces were selected to represent a particular aesthetic attitude in the conviction that a cohesive group of important works makes the most forceful statement for peace.”

In appealing to an aesthetic attitude the artists were likely thinking of the recent exhibition curated by Barbara Rose, “Towards a New Aesthetic”, held at the Washington Gallery of Modern Art in 1967. Arguing that there is nothing to constitute a style or a school in the history of American art, Rose believed that the literalism Michael Fried condemned in “Art and Objecthood” was in fact a powerful moment in contemporary art and the measure of its success. E.C. Goossen’s “The Art of the Real,” soon followed, and there was overlap between artists in each, artists who were quite willing to adopt the rhetoric of “the real” as an expression of a specifically American “aesthetic attitude.”

However, the exhibition statement prompted critic Gregory Battcock to write that while he very much liked the exhibition, in these terms it might as well be a wine tasting or a fashion show, and that “We are, as usual, being sold a package. The Modern philosophy of Madison Avenue and the packaging technologist has become everyday fact.”****And Leo Steinberg was critical of the rhetoric of the real as well, in his lecture “Other Criteria,” read at MoMA only months before the opening of The Art of the Real, stating that contemporary art has become the technological research in which the art object ‘”is declared at last to be a real thing, possessed of more “reality” than mere art ever had.”*****

The language that surrounds this show - the curator’s desires to articulate what is art historically of note for their time, and the condemnation of these attempts as mere packaging for a growing market impressed by clean and technical professionalism, belong to it equally and are by now familiar. Responding in a quite physical way to the photo of Bill Bollinger’s floor-to-ceiling tension cable as sculpture, and to the art historical fact that it was in this show that Sol Lewitt made his very first wall drawings, I find this divide to be a curious moment in the history of American art, a moment in which to have an aesthetic attitude was at the same time to get real.

As a “cohesive group of important works,” standing together to fund student opposition to war, does such an attitude count for something more than what any of these works might bring in todays auctions?

The artists: Carl Andre, Jo Baer, Robert Barry, Bill Bollinger, Dan Flavin, Robert Huot, Will Insley, Donald Judd, Sol Lewitt, Robert Mangold, Doug Ohlson, Robert Ryman.

By Catherine Spaeth

*Arthur C. Danto, “Before the Revolution,” in Artforum, May 2008, p. 100.
**Members of the Situationist International and the Students of Strasbourg, “On the Poverty of Student Life Considered in it’s Economic, Political, Psychological, Sexual and Particularly Intellectual Aspects, and a Modest Proposal for its Remedy,” in Beneath the Paving Stones: Situationists and the Beach, May 1968, texts collected by Dark Star, London, :A/K Press, c. 2001, p. 26.
***As quoted by Grace Glueck, Artnotes, Sunday October 27th, 1968.
****Gregory Battcock, “Reviewing the Above Statement,” in New York Free Press Critique, 31, October 1968.
Leo Steinberg, “Other Criteria,” in Other criteria, NY: Oxford University press, c. 1972, p. 1963.

Image Credits: Installation views from "Exhibition to Benefit Student Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam," October 1968. Installation 1, Will Insley, Jo Baer; Installation 2, Carl Andre, Doug Ohlson; Installation 3, Robert Huot, Dan Flavin; Installation 4, Robert Mangold, Bill Bollinger, and Donald Judd. All images courtesy of Paula Cooper Gallery.

Saturday
Nov242007

30/40: Benjamin Buchloh on Marian Goodman*

Stefan Stux's homepage opens with a self portrait of the gallerist and the words, “My interest lies in an engagement with art that transforms from avant garde to art history as I watch it happen.” Heavy breathing rides over a drum beat and an animated wand conjures the artists in his gallery into visibility, as though their appearance were generated from his very body. But Stux’s gallery is one of many galleries feeding in the glut. Imagine Fabian Marcaccio’s sci-fi silicone brushstrokes yawning wide at the frenzy - the urgency of there being something at stake suddenly seems lost in the din. Still, I want to imagine that galleries can have a sense of strong public art historical value, and in posing somewhere between sincerity and parody Stux reminds us that this indeed remains the ambition.

It was with some eagerness, then, that we visited Benjamin Buchloh’s curation of the Marian Goodman Gallery - it is the art historian’s job to situate cultural value as historical value. In the case of Marian Goodman and Buchloh, it is fait-accompli, as Buchloh has already written extensively about several of the artists that she carries. In fact, in a gesture not dissimilar from Stux’s above, this summer at MoMA there hung a painting by Gerhard Richter, where the painter and Buchloh, his critical champion, pose side by side before the heavy wooden doors of a church.

Buchloh is a master of describing an artist’s practice as at the cusp between one thing and another, andas the disproving of both. Goodman’s inaugural exhibition of Marcel Broodthaers is made to count in this way . Buchloh explains that Marian Goodman introduces Broodthaers to the American scene at the moment that Conceptual Art is reaching Modernism’s climax. At this climax, however, Conceptualism shed off Modernism's poetry, philosophy, historical narrative, and political representation. In the face of this, Broodthaers was acting against Modernism’s “blind aspiration” as well as Conceptualism’s “affirmative indifference towards an uncontested present.”

Elsewhere in Buchloh’s writing, Broodthaers’ work is described as an intervention of Conceptualism’s “aesthetic of administration” - the turning of pages of xerox books, or reading of wall texts as instructions, or self-referential description. In this context Broodthaers named himself the director of a museum and built the “Department of Eagles,” a manic and inexhaustible collection of all visual representations of the eagle throughout time as a symbol of ideal values, that migrates from context to context, manifesting differently in each. From Dusseldorf, Broodthaers’ eagle was a symbol of fascism, speaking from within the vehicle of conceptualism’s aesthetic of administration and simultaneously as a response to the neutralized idealist form of Minimalism’s cube.*

In the Goodman catalog, Buchloh explains one can’t deny that national cultural origins have generated the work that is accepted as international in the contemporary art scene. But how does the identity of a gallery play out in this scene? Further, how is an art historian so committed to dialectics going to describe the work of forty artists exhibited in one gallery over the course of thirty years as the expression of a gallerist? In post-historical form, that is, without “this happened and that happened,” Buchloh describes three separate epistemological force fields that give some consistency to Goodman’s discernment over the past three decades.

The first begins with Marcel Broodthaers as he is described above - the force field of those artists whose critical approach to history undoes the subject of that history. This would include not only Broodthaers but Giovanni Anselmo, Anri Sala, and Yang Fudong, and at first this is the most clearly legible category of all, depending as it does upon a cultural historical construct for its legibility.


The second epistemological field is that of chance in an administered world, and it is introduced by Sol Lewitt and Gerhard Richter. As different as their work appears, these artists are both interested in chance as well as “internalizing the very principles of technological rationality and serial production.” Buchloh describes this as a post-Cageian and anti-auratic aesthetics. John Cage is famous for deciding upon all aesthetic and personal choices in his life upon throwing the I’Ching, remaining bound to a model of self-determination as the man who throws the coin. Lewitt’s serial logic and Richter’s encyclopedic disidentification throw willfully capricious randomness into a more mechanized register. Rineke Dijkstra’s photography suddenly appears in this epistemolgical field.

The third epistemological field is that of a psychoanalytic subjectivity embedded in the phenomenological immersion of experience, where desire opens out the space of “the real” to its elisions and misrecognitions. Dan Graham’s mirrors are in the foreground here, but I see Steve McQueen’s “Five Easy pieces” as well.

Buchloh admits that there is a considerable degree of folly in his attempt to describe the singularity of one gallerist’s achievement in relation to three force fields. But the attempt has been made, and while one would be hard pressed to find a comfortable nexus for every single work in this large, two-part exhibition, there is a good deal of holding power in this articulation, and the descriptions Buchloh provides of individual artist’s projects are all the richer for them. A good art historian will always help you to see the work of art more clearly, and without any magic wands that has certainly happened here.

* This is a review of the catalog essays by Benjamin Buchloh, “Marian Goodman: Artists and Photographs,” and “40 Artists” in 30/40: A Selection of Forty Artists from Thirty Years at Marian Goodman Gallery, edited and written by Benjamin Buchloh, Marian Goodman Gallery, c. 2007.
* See Benjamin Buchloh, “Conceptual Art 1962-1969: From the Aesthetic of Administration to the Critique of Institutions,” in October, V. 75 (Winter 1996) pp.60-82.

Images:Rineke Dijkstra, The Buzz Club, Liverpool, England/Mysterworld, Zaandam, Netherlands, 1996-7. Double projection, 35mm film with sound, transferred to video or DVD; Marcel Broodthaers, Tapis de Sable, 1974, Palm tree, sand, painted cloth, 88 5/8x70 7/8x27 1/2". Both courtesy of Marian Goodman.

By Catherine Spaeth

Sunday
Nov182007

Narrative Histories: Glenn Ligon At Bill Hodges and Kara Walker at Sikkema Jenkins & Co.


We recently visited Bill Hodges small gallery at 24 West 57th. For the secondary market Hodges specializes in the work of African American artists and carries widely known contemporary artists such as Glenn Ligon and Carrie Mae Weems, but also Norman Lewis and Romare Beardon. In the mid-70s Hodges became a patron of African American artists, and much has changed since then.

It was Romare Beardon who along with others in the ‘60s formed the group “Spiral” with the aim of discovering a specifically African-American aesthetic identity. While Beardon’s project could never be realized - there is too much diversity in expressive art - the project to define an African American aesthetic identity continues. In Hodges’ 2006 exhibition catalog for the artist Danny Simmons, the artist is quoted as saying, “”What does the ancestor look like? I have to see what they feel like in my head. They appear as colors to me.”* Like a shaman he brings what is unknown into the frame as colorful abstractions, and in conjuring his ancestors Simmons pushes aside the difficulties that Beardon found.

In 2007 Hodge’s gallery held its first “unauthorized” exhibition of a contemporary artist. Glenn Ligon is known for paintings in which the words of slave narratives repeat themselves in stenciled letters across the canvas from top to bottom. The use of stencils emphasizes that these are separate letters used repeatedly in a relational context to form a variety of words. Zora Neale Hurston’s words appear: “I feel most colored when I am shown against a sharp white background.” Gradually the letters thicken and overlap, becoming illegible coal. The increasing tedium and impossibility of trying to read stalls narrative identification.

For Ligon, this stalling is not meant to simply confound the viewer in relation to an “other” they can never have access to. It occurs in the writer’s experience of narrative as well. Observing the changes in Frederick Douglas’ autobiographical attempts from the first to the third version, Ligon became interested “in the idea of convention and self-invention in autobiography as it speaks to counteracting essentialist notions of black identity. The ‘one’ that I am is composed of narratives that overlap, run parallel to, and often contradict one another.”* By this account, to identify as black is to participate in and perpetuate colonialist mythology, and it is Glenn Ligon who is credited with the term “post-black,” now used with reference to a variety of artists.

At Sikkema Jenkins, a painting in Kara Walker’s series “Search for ideas supporting the Black Man as a work of Modern Art/Contemporary Painting, a death without end and an appreciation of the Creative Spirit of lynch mobs,” are the words: “An imaginary black man forced to invent the “white woman” to scream him into being. Every canvas is a blank space begging to be maimed. The paper calls the brush to break its neck.” For Walker the relations of figure and ground belong to the violent space of imagination where race is constructed. Her scissors are the cut of this imagination, each snip shaping the contours of identities against a ground. We are dictated in these works by a line that feeds reckless desire heightened by the paper-thin limits of social boundary. Decorative embellishment and flourish both normalizes brutality and stages the shock.

Despite their differences, all of these artists - Beardon, Simmons, Ligon and Walker - find a place where their personal experiences of racialized life interrupt the neutrality of the white canvas. The difference is that one of the aims of the post-black artist is not to simply enter history but to reveal and expand the very means by which that history is written and also read. Colonialism’s violence is summoned no less by postmodern accounts of identities, but here violence is acknowledged as fundamental to the signifying process itself. This occurs as the artist’s personal and objective culturally determined expression that includes the beholder, in Walker’s case occasionally distancing and objectifying her with a voice of contempt, but always engaging a subject already maimed and eviscerated by inclusion within the frame.

*As quoted in Leslie King-Hammond, "Danny Simmons - Visible Presence," exhibition catalog, Bill Hodges Gallery, 2006.
* As quoted in Kimberly Rae Connor, "To Disembark: The Slave Narrative Tradition," African American Review, V. 30 No. 1 (Spring 1996) pp. 35-57.

image credit: Glenn Ligon, Self-portait #6, 1996, silkscreen on primed canvas, 48x40", Courtesy of Bill Hodges Gallery, www.billhodgesgallery.com

Catherine Spaeth