Gallery Crawl

“The Modern Myth: Drawing Mythologies in Modern Times” at The Museum of Modern Art

By: James C. Kao

 

 

  Whilst searching the online calendar of The Museum of Modern Art, I saw that on the third floor there was an exhibition relating modern art to mythologies, curated by Geaninne Gutierrez-Guimaraes and Luis Perez-Oramas. Being interested in the topic of mythologies (about this time last year I visited the exhibition “Mythologies” at Haunch of Venison in London and quite enjoyed it), I thought I should pay “The Modern Myth” a visit.

  The first piece I saw was Wilfredo Lam’s Satan, which set the tone for the first of the exhibition’s three parts. The influences of Matisse and Picasso were evident in Lam’s drawing of a mythical figure depicted in a modern style. Bill Traylor’s Blue Snake was humorous; the drawing was simplistic and in contrast to other works in the exhibition. Moving into one of the first three galleries of the exhibit, I saw a drawing by Jess Collins, who referred to himself simply as “Jess.” This was eye-candy because of its beautiful figures (Narcissus was hot!) within an intricately rendered background. The pencil on linen was faint and required that I examine the drawing closer, savoring its details. The next drawing was by Jackson Pollock – Untitled c.1928-41. This was quite an interesting choice as I would not have immediately associated Pollock with myths, which usually are more related to narratives. The Pollock was unexpected, and it inspired me to search for its hidden connections to the rest of the show. The organic quality of the drawing reminded me of mythical monsters. The other pieces in this room were mostly direct references to classical mythology but in each artist’s own modern style.

  The arrangements were well thought out: works of similar subjects and media were at times placed together but a few also spaced out. This purposeful lack of consistent grouping helped to string the whole show together by providing intermittent reminders. For example, Constantin Brancusi’s Study related to The First Step was reminiscent of Traylor’s work. In the second gallery, I immensely enjoyed a drawing by Max Ernst; his drawing made turned cellular processes into characters. Other drawings in the vicinity of Ernst also contained totems, which recalled the idea of mythical figures as well as religious and cultural artifacts.

 

 
 Max Ernst, The Gramineous Bicycle Garnished with Bells the Dappled Fire Damps and the Echinoderms Bending the Spine to Look for Caresses, c. 1921, gouache, ink, and pencil on printed paper on paperboard. Photo by James C. Kao.

 

 

Continuing in the second gallery, I saw more Surrealist works as well as labels explaining why some of these drawings should be included. The explanation stated that the works were creating “personal cosmologies,” and although they lacked direct references to classical mythology, myth played a part in inspiring the artists’ imagined landscapes and worlds. I was not always convinced as I felt psychology had a stronger influence than mythology. Still, some pieces warranted my interest. Arshile Gorky’s Study for Summation and its scattered orifices created characters like Ernst and the others, but it was also funny in a carnivalesque kind of way.

  The third gallery contained more works by contemporary artists. Christopher Knowles’ Untitled (Sunshine Superman) was a text work and referenced the modern myths of superheroes. Jim Shaw’s Dream Drawing linked back to the Surrealist works in the second gallery. In this gallery I also saw works by Matthew Barney, an obvious choice, given that he created his own new mythologies. There were two pieces by Barney; one included an image of a character from his Cremaster series. But it was the other, Stadium, which intrigued me more because it challenged my expectations of the artist’s works. It was neither a well-produced reproduction of an image from one of his films nor a large sculptural piece that was once used as a prop. Instead, it was a framed small drawing that resembled a schematic, and the ice packs on the plastic frame mirrored certain shapes in the drawing itself.

 

 
Matthew Barney, Stadium, 1991, pencil on paper with self-lubricating plastic frame with ice packs, Velcro, and thread. Photo by James C. Kao.

 

 

    This show asks you to consider the concept of myth with works ranging from obvious to those that make you wonder “why is this here?” The curators attempted to answer this question several times with wall labels. Although I did not always agree with some of the stretches the curators made, I did like seeing many of the works and appreciated the spots of humor. If you are visiting MoMA and not already too exhausted from the special blockbusters of Burton, Abramovic, and Kentridge then this gallery is worth a visit.

The Modern Myth at The Museum of Modern Art runs through September 6^th

The Museum of Modern Art

11 West 53^rd Street

Take the E or V train to 53rd Street/5^th Avenue, the B, D, or F train to 47-50 Street/Rockefeller Center, or the 6 train to 51st Street

Museum Hours: Sat-Thurs, 10:30 – 5:30; F, 10:30 - 8:45

Museum website: www.moma.org

Ernesto Neto: Navedenga at The Museum of Modern Art

By: James C. Kao

 

 

 
Ernesto Neto, Installation View of Navedenga, 1998, polyamide stretch fabric, sand, styrofoam, cloves, cord, and ribbon, 144 x 180 x 252" (365.8 x 457.2 x 640.1 cm). Image courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art. Photo © 2010 Jason Mandella.

 

  Brazilian artist Ernesto Neto (b.1964) uses polyamide stretch fabric to create large sculptures and installations that inspire interaction. He also uses bags of spices and Styrofoam pellets to add structural elements to his installations. Neto’s work creates immersive experiential spaces. He changes the environment of the space the work is installed in, shifting a rectangular man-made room to an organic landscape. The visitor feels as if he or she is going inside the body of a creature. Neto plays with abstraction and minimalism to negate geometric confines. His works are at once organic and architectural, and they appeal to multiple senses. For some projects he creates an exoskeleton to support the fabric, such as the Anthropodino (2009) installation at the Park Avenue Armory.

Navedenga (1998) at MoMA is an older work. Visitors enter the installation through a sliver of an opening, stepping on the stretchable fabric. When I entered, the project felt fragile and delicate. I wanted to touch the insides but I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to. The color of the fabric and its material inevitably reminded me of stockings, but this association did not last. What I then experienced was tranquility. Although the fabric was not soundproof or opaque, it slightly muffled the visual and auditory chaos of the museum. The spice held within the fabric, which I could not identify, was, according to another visitor as well as the website’s explanation, cloves. I admit that at first I was slightly disappointed by the size of the project and how quickly it took to explore. It was less memorable than the other works of his I have seen because the experience of the installation was not as immersive. This may be because Neto’s later works became more ambitious. Though it failed to leave a lasting impression on me, Navedenga is an intimate project, a demonstration of Neto’s early explorations, and a good introduction for visitors who have never experienced his work. If the line is not unpleasantly long to enter the installation, it’s worth a visit.

 

Ernesto Neto: Navedenga at MoMA until April 5, 2010

 

The Museum of Modern Art

11 West 53^rd Street

Take the E or V train to 53rd Street/5^th Avenue, the B, D, or F train to 47-50 Street/Rockefeller Center or the 6 train to 51st Street

Museum Hours: Sat-Thurs, 10:30 – 5:30; F, 10:30 - 8:45  

Museum Website: www.moma.org

“Skin Fruit: Selections from the Dakis Joannou Collection” Curated by Jeff Koons

By: Sarah Blumberg

 

 

 
Works in “Skin Fruit: Selections from the Dakis Joannou Collection.” Image courtesy of the New Museum.

 

 

The Dakis Joannou Collection, one of the largest contemporary art collections in the world, began with the purchase of Jeff Koons’ One Ball Equilibrium Tank in 1985, so it’s fitting that Koons was asked to curate “Skin Fruit: Selections from the Dakis Joannou Collection,” now on display at the New Museum.  Of course, Koons’s choice to include One Ball Equilibrium Tank in “Skin Fruit” would have made sense if the exhibition were merely meant to be an overview of contemporary artwork from the past two decades, but it isn’t.  Yes, for the person who knows very little about contemporary art and wants to see all of the biggest names in one place – there are Cindy Sherman photographs, one of Takashi Murakami’s creepy-sleek sculptures and some Chris Ofili elephant dung paintings – this exhibition is a great place to start.  However, Koons’s repulsively-named exhibition seeks to explore the age-old preoccupation with the human body as a vessel and vehicle for experience, but with over 100 works by 50 artists spread out over four floors, “Skin Fruit” can be, at times, a bit overwhelming.  Since all of these pieces are from one of the most famous collections of contemporary art in the world, and have won awards and gained exposure prior to this exhibit, it’s sometimes hard to see past their provenance. 

The layout of “Skin Fruit” appears to been decided upon haphazardly, although this is not meant to be the case.  Koons wanted visitors to be able to view the majority of the works on each floor from any point in the room, and while they are evenly spaced from each other, not all of the pieces seem to succeed within this method of display.  One piece that felt especially out of place was Roberto Cuoghi’s towering Pazuzu, a 20-foot version of a much smaller statue of an Assyrian demon at the Louvre. Cuoghi was attempting to inspire the sort of fear in a contemporary audience that the Assyrians might have felt, but while this statue would have been interesting on its own or in a different setting, it feels particularly awkward in “Skin Fruit” because of the way in which it dwarfs the other works surrounding it.

While the overall feel of “Skin Fruit” is disorganization – throwing so many works together makes this exhibit feel more like a warehouse of artwork than a museum show –certain aspects of it are more cohesive than others.  The second floor, for instance, despite the fact that it was probably the most graphic section of the show, was the one area that didn’t feel overwhelming, possibly because it’s the only section of the exhibition that takes place in a few distinct spaces rather than one open room.  Even David Altmejd’s The Giant, a sculpture of an oversized, naked, hairy man covered in mirrors and taxidermied squirrels, actually seemed to fit within the context of the other pieces surrounding it and provided a break from some of the overly serious nature of some of the other works.  In another room that presented a welcome change, I could hear Tino Sehgal’s This is Propaganda before actually encountering it.  It wasn’t until I stepped into the space, where the work is sung by a security guard as she strolls around the room, that I also encountered Maurizio Cattelan’s All, a series of nine white body bags that look like sheets but that, upon closer inspection, are actually made of marble.  The hush of the gallery and the artwork displayed within, interrupted by the music of Sehgal’s piece, created an effect that was startling, yet strangely beautiful.

  Koons clearly had a very strong vision for “Skin Fruit,” but asking an artist to curate an exhibition is always risky, and even the works within this show that I really enjoyed, such as Richard Prince’s painting I’m in a Limousine, made from acrylic on canvas and canceled checks, and Robert Gober’s bizarre Untitled, a sculpture that feature a disembodied, suited leg protruding from a wall, with two other anchor-shaped girls legs dangling from it, would have been just as interesting, if not more so, if seen in another context.  “Skin Fruit” presents an expansive look at some of the biggest names in contemporary art since the 1980s, but what it provides in breadth it lacks in cohesion. 

 

“Skin Fruit: Selections from the Dakis Joannou Collection” at the New Museum runs through June 6^th

 

New Museum

235 Bowery

Take the 6 train to Spring Street or the N or R train to Prince Street

Museum hours: W, 12-6; Thurs-F, 12-9; Sat-Sun, 12-6

Exhibition website: http://www.newmuseum.org/exhibitions/421/skin_fruit_selections_from_the_dakis_joannou_collection

Perspectives on the March Fairs

The Armory Show 2010

 

 

By: Lindsay Casale

 

 

The Armory Show, considered the flagship fair of art week, was bustling and hectic on Sunday, the final day of the show. Spread out between two hangar-like piers, the show is expansive yet selective, showing work from some of the best galleries all over the world year after year. The two piers, 92 and 94, were distinctly separate, only connected by a rickety set of stairs in the back of Pier 94. Pier 92 was titled Armory Modern, while 94 bore no name. Though the booths were individual and in some ways, radically different, I noticed a pervading sense of optimism throughout the show, and at times even a bit of whimsy. This was best exemplified by the Other Criteria booth in Pier 94, which showed multiple bright Damien Hirst prints along with the humorous, albeit macabre Still Birth series by Polly Morgan. Walking from the chatty and chaotic atmosphere of 94 into 92 was an oddly serene experience. Pier 92 seemed brighter and more refined; a trait I noticed first in the plush grey carpets underfoot, a stark contrast to the painted and re-painted floors in Pier 94. Although Armory Modern has always made it clear that the purpose of the show is to represent “dealers specializing in historically significant modern and contemporary art”, and so the two wings in some ways defy comparison, ultimately, what I was looking for in this art show was something fresh, alive, and exciting. To highlight what I found to be rather palpable differences between the two piers, I was able to find a few pieces from each pier that had parallels in form, style, or content, but great disparities in effect.

 
 

Polly Morgan, Still Birth, Ed. 10, Available through Other Criteria. Image Courtesy Other Criteria.

At Pier 94, almost immediately upon arrival, I noticed a rather noisy piece at Jiri Svetska gallery entitled I see, I see, I see, by Kristof Kintera. Perched atop a tree branch in the corner of the booth was a small, squawky, animatronic raven dressed in a smart leather jacket. As visitors passed by, the fantastical raven yelled raspy statements such as “It’s not funny!” and “I see you.” Unsettling as it was, the dynamism and novelty of this piece could not be denied. A few steps into Pier 92 I encountered an eerily similar subject in Edward Lipski’s suspended Bird. Displayed prominently in the Alan Koppel booth, this piece consisted solely of a large, suspended bird replete with meticulously placed dark plumage. Whereas Kintera’s raven was the epitome of expression, Lipski’s was a beacon of silence. No eyes, no legs, and no range of movement; the bird’s foreboding stillness produced a similarly jarring effect to Kintera’s blabbering bird, but in an entirely unique manner. Perhaps it was Kintera’s sharp leather jacket, but there was a certain sense of cool, which was part if the appeal of Pier 94, in the Jiri Svetska booth.

 

 

 
 Alyson Shotz,Magnetic Force # 2, 2010, Stainless steel balls on mirror polished stainless steel with neomydium magnet, 18” x 16” (45.7 x 40.6 cm), at Carolina Nitsch.

 

 

  I was especially struck by the simple beauty of Louise Bourgeois’ series of spiral woodcuts at the Carolina Nitsch booth in Pier 94. The wood grain showed through the punchy primary colors of the spirals, and the diminutive size of the frames presented together made for a clean, aesthetically pleasing installation. At the same booth were the attractive and intriguing Magnetic Force and Magnetic Fields by Alyson Shotz. Particularly impacting was Magnetic Force, as the “force” of these small sterling spheres was apparent and real, the clusters mounted on a glassy silver surface suggested impending movement, as if the moment you happened to touch the spheres they would break apart and fall into motion. In Pier 92, I noticed two pieces that struck me as quite similar to those mentioned above, in subject matter and form. For one, I found Francis Celentano’s Elliptical Painting in Yellow and Violet at Jacobson Howard to be a quieter, less effective version of Louise Bourgeois’s woodcuts. Celentano’s painting emanated retro in a tired way, and the scale was a bit overwhelming. In comparison to Alyson’s Shotz Magnetic Force, Peter Kogler’s piece at JGM proved a more tame use of silver spheres on the cusp of motion. Kogler’s piece was a maze-like table with multiple silver spheres poised in various locations, which, if moved, would certainly cause a chain reaction. The course of action was clear, and yet the piece lacked the tension so evident in Shotz’s work.  I found this most fascinating because, in the most literal sense, Shotz’s spheres were affixed to a surface while Kogler’s were much more free to move.

The Armory Show this year was a balancing act. The pull to play it safe due to a tough economic year contrasted with the push of innovation, and the excitement of visitors was tempered by the serious attitude of discerning collectors. The comparisons between Armory Modern and Pier 94 demonstrated the optimism perceptible in the art world today. One can only hope for the same, or better, next year.

 

 

Armory, Pulse and Volta

 

 

By: Gallery Crawler

 

 

By last Friday, Art Newspaper was already trumpeting the success of this year’s installment of the Armory Show, and rightly so; Armory 2010 positively bustled with cheery energy. As I reported a year ago, Armory 2009 was a dreary affair, peopled by bored galleristas with forced smiles. After enduring the last two years of gallery death watches, it seems that the art world is ready for some cautious optimism.  However, after visiting Armory, and two of the satellite fairs—Pulse and Volta—I found that many of the most engaging works on display continued to mine the uncertainty of recent times by retreating into art historicism and gothic theatricality. 

 

 

 Vincent Desederio, Mourning and Fecundity, 2007 at Marlborough Gallery’s booth at the Armory Show 2010. Photo by Anna Daley.

 

The first work I encountered at Armory, Vincent Desiderio’s Mourning and Fecundity (2007) at Marlborough Gallery, was located just inside the entrance to the Armory Modern section. It simultaneously brought to mind Dutch Baroque corporation paintings, such as Rembrandt’s Night Watch, and sweeping Romantic canvases.  The massive, history-painting-style proportions of the work, the apparently period clothing of the figures and the use of diffuse natural light give Mourning and Fecundity an academic heft.  Nevertheless, what continued to hold my attention was the mystery at the center of the work—what are the men carrying and why?

 

 

Mira Pearlman, Subito, 2010 at Caren Goldman Fine Art’s booth at Pulse NYC. Photo by Anna Daley.

 

 

Pulse NYC, a smaller, scruffier fair, bills itself as “the leading US art fair dedicated solely to contemporary art.”  Yet, I found little to interest me there.  Mira Pearlman’s moody, paper maelstroms at Caren Golden Fine Art and Aleksandar Duravcevic shadowy, graphite drawings at Galerie Stefan Röpke were two of the few bright spots.  Pearlman’s menacing, papery swirl, Subito, drew me to Goldman’s booth from across the fair and continued to engage me, even very close up.  The flimsiness of the paper is a potent metaphor for the ephemerality of weather.  Duravcevic’s graphite on black paper works, Mirror and Candle, are the most successful of the several black on black works I saw at this weekend’s fairs.  Mirror, in particular, delighted me because not only is Duravcevic clearly having fun with the haunted-house drama of the black on black schema, but the work is also technically masterful. 

 

 Aleksandar Duravcevic, Mirror, 2008 at Galerie Stefan Röpke’s booth at Pulse NYC.  Photo by Anna Daley.

 

  Of the three fairs I visited, Volta NY was by far the most enjoyable for two important reasons: one, the participating galleries represented a diverse selection of artists, and two, each gallery only exhibited the work of one artist.  This allowed visitors to truly delve into the work of artists that interested them.  If you have time for only one art fair next year, make it Volta.  I was ready to dismiss Yuval Pudik’s photocollage-esque drawings (on view at Kim Light/Lightbox) as an empty redeux of Victorian imagery, but the more I looked at his work, the more impressed I became with its cohesiveness.  His collages are three-car-pile-ups of human, animal and vegetal parts, clothed in bits of historicist finery and glam-rock bondage.  His works are trendy in their post-modern appropriation, but they also accomplish a rare feat in contemporary art—they are truly subversive. 

 
Yuval Pudik, Fallen Ecotones No. 3, 2010 at Kim Light/Lightbox’s booth at Volta NY. Image courtesy of Kim Light.

 

The Armory Show

By: Inna Bruter

The Armory Show doesn't know it, but it has single-handedly answered the age-old question: what does it look like when galleristas from around the world are crowded into two buildings in Manhattan? It's like taking the denizens of the international sophisticated art scene- with all their fabulous accents- from Milan, London, Seul, and so on, and packing it into, of all places, Piers 92 and 94. The atmosphere is intoxicating and when you enter, you're sucked into the vortex.

There are hundreds of galleries exhibiting, and thousands of works of art.  My extremely academic approach was to walk down the corridor and simply stop at any piece that drew my interest. This brought me directly to Nose on Horse, the highlight of my tour.  

 

 

 

 William Kentridge, Untitled VI: (Nose on Horse: Napoleon), 2007.

 

 

To be specific, I came face to face with a bronze sculpture depicting Napoleon on horseback, a large nose in place of his head. This work stood in the booth of the Italian gallery Lia Rumma. The neighboring space, the Goodman Gallery from South Africa, had other nose works by the same artist, which really made me wonder, what's with all these noses?

It turns out that the Nose is none other than the protruding theme of a series of works by South African artist William Kentridge. Kentridge is clearly preoccupied with this feature, as he's just staged and directed Shostakovich's The Nose, which opened March 5th at the Metropolitan Opera. It's based on a satirical tale by Gogol about a civil servant who wakes up one day to tragically find that his nose is missing; to make things worse, it has acquired a higher rank than him and refuses to return to his face. This story inspired Kentridge into an outpouring of work; he's created drawings, collages, and sculptures over the last several years about the Nose. In fact, the Museum of Modern Art is currently examining five themes in his oeuvre, one of which you can guess right now without any trouble. Apparently you can't turn your head in New York City this spring without bumping into Kentridge and his huge Nose.

The story of an appendage disappearing from a man's face, winding up in someone else's breakfast, taking on human size, and acquiring a social rank, expresses the absurdity of life. And that is just what I felt when I discovered myself beset on all sides by noses on horses and Napoleon with a large nose in place of his head. Thank you, Armory show. If I had to rely on the Whitney Museum's 2010 biennial to actually see some interesting art, I'd have thought art was dead. 

 

 

 

 

The Armory Show, 2010

12^th Avenue and 55^th Street

Thursday March 4th- Sunday March 7th

www.thearmoryshow.com/cgi-local/content.cgi

 

Pulse NYC

300 West Street

Thursday March 4th-Sunday 7th

www.pulse-art.com

 

Volta NY

7 West 34th Street

Thursday March 4th-Sunday March 7th

www.voltashow.com

 

 

See more images taken at the fairs at Gallery Crawl's Flickr Stream:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/gallerycrawl

 

"The Helsinki School-Seven Approaches" at Bryce Wolkowitz Gallery

By: Diane Vivona

 

“The Helsinki School –Seven Approaches” at Bryce Wolkowitz Gallery runs through April 3rd, and brings together the photography of seven artists, all affiliated with the University of Art and Design in Helsinki, Finland.  While there is no stated technical, conceptual, or political strategy that brings these artists together as a school of thought, there is a sense that the work belongs together.  All the artists are either current or former students and teachers at the University, the largest art school in Scandinavia, which seems to imply a prodigious output of artists and, by necessity, types of art work.  According to one artist, what brings the work together is a spirit of co-operation and support, and the group is unified through the artists’ physical connection to the University, their chosen medium of photography, and the conceptual connections that drive their experimentations and learning.  In essence, the School has become a hub of activity, fueled by the artists within it.  Not a bad way to define a school (conceivably, this is an aim of the Bruce High Quality Foundation’s open university) and, perhaps this constitutes a reason to take a closer look into the work itself.

Wolkowitz has selected five men and two women for his show, each of who applies the camera as a conceptual tool to different subjects with varying effect.  Much of the work is presented in glossy Diasec, heightening an awareness of the image as object.  The clean, slick, hard surface separates the work from the mass of digital photographs produced and viewed on a daily basis, and forces an acknowledgement of the work’s multiple dimensions and layers as a three-dimensional entity.

Large-scale works from Johannas Ahlava’s series Outer Limits explore portraiture through the silhouetted form.  Ahlava takes a traditional black and white “head shot” and develops the film as if it were color, resulting in a dark form outlined by a saturated hue – a single color in each of the three works displayed – red, black and turquoise.  The work is a hybrid that brings together the concerns of the 1950s color field artists with the 1980s obsession with identity politics, using historical precedents as a way to reconsider the facility and ease of image-making today.  With a nostalgic and suggestively ironic nod to Victorian-era craft, these works appear at once ominous and playful.  The black-on-black image, in particular, portends a gloomy, paranoid future: when the image cannot be seen, is it because the image is not there or is it there and because invisible, is unacknowledged?  Ahlava’s point is, perhaps, that seeing is not necessarily a reliable information source, but is always an act of beauty and wonder.

 

 

 
Susanna Majuri, Forest, 2009, C-print, Diasec, 35.43 x 53.15 inches, 90 x 135 cm., Edition of 5. Image Courtesy of Bryce Wolkowitz Gallery.

 

 

Susana Majuri creates single frame narratives that imply ongoing fantastical mythological stories.  Using archetypes in familiar settings with unusual pairings, Majuri requires the viewer’s engagement as a detective, determining subject/object, reality/fantasy, activity/stillness as a way to gain access to the potential meaning and underlying rationale of the work.   In Jaakaruhu (Polar Bear) (2009), a fully clothed figure is submersed underwater, crumpled up and reaching a hand out towards the mouth of a giant polar bear.  This startling moment loudly announces its undeniably constructed origins and shows how Majuri is concerned with taking the viewer into a fantasy and simultaneously revealing the fantasy’s false nature. Another work, Forest (2009), shows two young women floating in a leaf filled pond with one facing up and the other down.  It is not clear whether they are dead or alive, and the sheer beauty of the image – the autumnal colors, the shadow of large fir trees, the billowing dresses, the still water – creates a perverse pleasure. Majuri carries into the 21^st century the fateful question previously presented via Shakespeare through the character Ophelia and visually memorialized by John Everett Millais’ iconic 19^th century painting of Ophelia’s floating corpse: is death so becoming?

 

 
  Ola Kolehmainen, Türkenstraße 19 A, 2009, analogue C-print, Diasec, 79.53 x 102.76 inches, 202 x 261 cm., Edition of 6. Courtesy of Bryce Wolkowitz Gallery.

 

 

Ola Kolehmainen’s photographs are blurry impressions of modernist buildings that transform manmade constructions into expansive colorful landscapes.  The images are spontaneously deconstructed by the photographer’s lens and the defining edges – the walls that typically delineate and separate space – become diffused bridges from one expansive surface to the next.

 

 
  Niko Luoma, Symmetrium #2, 2009, C-print, Diasec, 66.93 x 55.12 inches, 170 x 140 cm., Edition of 5. Courtesy of Bryce Wolkowitz Gallery.

 

 

Niko Luoma creates geometric images that challenge the viewer to find a referent; his abstract lines in tight symmetrical designs call attention to the possibility that photography does not capture an external reality but is a tool with which man designs, constructs and forms images. Luoma’s work defiantly explodes this ever-present fine-art dialectic.  Hannu Karjalainen takes a more whimsical look at the possible painterly aspects of photography through his series of portraits.  Here the subject is carefully clothed in both a garment and an exact color-match of poured paint. Karjalainen’s texturally rich eye catchers are pleasing visual puns.

Pertti Kekarainen’s Tila (Red Pullover) (2004) and Tila (Double Door) (2008) apply Kekarainene’s signature blurry dots to impressions of unextraordinary places, punctuating the prosaic with carnivalesque merriment.  Exploring multiple dimensions of the term Tila – which refers to room/area/state of mind  – this series combines a fascination with architecture, an attraction to the way architecture defines social spaces, and a wonderment at the ideas housed within these structures, all in a jaunty framework.  Currently, viewers can also see Kekarainen’s work in a different context as part of the Metropolitan Museum’s contemporary photography exhibition, “Surface Tension.” Anni Leppala explores a variation on this theme through her investigation of how a familiar domestic realm can be transformed through a child’s imagination.  Her multiple images alluding to the eccentric theatrical worlds and strange interludes available to the young are worth careful viewing.

In sum, the exhibition provides an enjoyable introduction to the work of “The Helsinki School” artists.  While it is possible to view digital reproductions of the work of these artists online, the full experience requires viewing in person.  Before the crocuses bloom, take a stroll to see them.

 

“The Helsinki School –Seven Approaches” at Bryce Wolkowitz Gallery runs through April 3^rd

 

Bryce Wolkowitz Gallery

505 West 24^th Street

Take the C or E train to 23^rd Street and/or the M23 Bus to 10^th Avenue

Gallery Hours: M-F, 10 - 6

Gallery Website: http://www.brycewolkowitz.com

Projects 92: Yin Xiuzhen’s “Collective Subconscious” at MoMA

By: Justin Wolf

 

 

 
Yin Xuizhen, Collective Subconscious, 2007, minivan, stainless steel, used clothing, stools, music.

Photo by Justin Wolf.

 

 

  Robert Smithson once wrote, “Any critic who devalues the time of the artist is the enemy of art and the artist. The stronger and clearer the artist’s view of time the more [she] will resent any slander on this domain.” After entering Yin Xiuzhen’s large-scale installation Collective Subconscious (2007), now on “view” at The Museum of Modern Art’s 2^nd-floor Projects Gallery, I feel obliged more than ever to heed Smithson’s warning.

  In the last twenty-five years or so, Beijing-based artist Yin Xiuzhen has made a name for herself by creating, staging and displaying works that reflect her surrounding environment and her relationship with it. The environment being late-20^th-century China: a country that has undergone rapid social, political and economic changes in which material excess and industrial growth have outpaced its capacity to shore up the resultant damage done to its natural environment; where the remnants of a People’s Republic (if a true one ever existed to begin with) are bizarrely in tandem with its ascent into capitalist juggernaut.  

  Xiuzhen began this reflective journey in 1995 with the “happening” Washing the River, in which she converted displaced water from a polluted river into a block of ice, then had participants dilute it with fresh water. Her goal was not to wash away collective memory, but to take her country’s aged loose ends and infuse them with a sense of hope. True to form, Xiuzhen has continued this practice of converging old and new with Collective Subconscious, which consists of a bisected minivan – front and back – joined together by an enclosed tube constructed out of stainless steel and scraps of used clothing.

 

 
Inside Yin Xuizhen’s Collective Subconscious. Photo by Justin Wolf.

 

 

  Visitors are welcome to enter the sculpture (watch your head), have a seat on one of several small benches, and listen to the Chinese pop song “Beijing, Beijing” emitting from the rear-end speakers, which sounds vaguely like Peter Gabriel, circa 1980, singing in Chinese. After a couple minutes in the middle, I made my way towards the back to rest on the minivan’s bucket seats. From this vantage point one can see people coming and going, and taking in the full spectrum of color along the corridor. This tiny refuge of washed neon fabric and industrial scrap made me think of the corridor in Discovery One in 2001: A Space Odyssey, that is, if Stanley Kubrick’s vision had been a little more Zen and a little less bleak Futurist.

 

 

 
Stainless steel floor of Collective Subconscious. Photo by Justin Wolf.

 

 

  I didn’t think much of Collective Subconscious at first, and honestly, I’m still on the fence. The caption on MoMA’s exhibition webpage bills it as “a space that invites visitors to break the silence of the hushed gallery, reinventing it as a place for conversation and discussion.” Whether this was Xiuzhen’s intent or the curator’s, my only response is: not quite. A space for contemplation, sure, but to suppose that MoMA-goers will express relief at having escaped some imaginary group of uptight docents who shush you at every turn is just plain wrong. I felt more hushed inside that thing than I did outside of it. But when I recall Smithson’s words, and consider Xiuzhen’s time, and more importantly her own view of her time and place in history, I realize that I’m in no such position to dismiss this work – not entirely.

  The closest I’ve ever come to China was a two-hour layover in the Hong Kong airport. I know nothing of its history beyond what I’ve read. I’ve never hailed down a minivan taxi on the streets of Beijing nor witnessed the fog of pollution rise as more Chinese citizens buy more and more cars. Context is everything in this respect. How can people share a subconscious without shared experiences? And without any first-hand references, I’m ill-equipped to fully appreciate something like Collective Subconscious. Maybe that’s Xiuzhen’s shortcoming and maybe it’s mine, but I’m pretty sure it’s something else altogether.   

 

 
Minivan used for Collective Subconscious. Photo by Justin Wolf.

 

 

  For an artist who relies on recycling as commentary (of which there are many these days),Yin Xiuzhen’s methodology is a novel one. She knows her history and shows a real sensitivity for the elements that make her home country conflicted and beautiful, tarnished yet hopeful. And if there’s one small symbol of hope the industrialized world can collectively agree on, however lacking in heart, it’s the hybrid vehicle. That’s what Xiuzhen has created: a hybrid of China’s mechanical industry and its agrarian past, of the machine-made and the hand-made, replete with touches of color, music and, at least in theory, conversation. It’s quite lovely to look at, especially from the inside, but reaches a tad far in presuming that some collective subconscious will be tapped in the process. All it tapped in me was the annoyance of not fully getting it, and I was conscious of that.

  The real shortcoming here is that this work just doesn’t belong in the MoMA, and it certainly doesn’t deserve to be squeezed between the exhibitions for Gabriel Orozco (underwhelming) and William Kentridge (astonishing!). Collective Subconscious deserves a space truly its own, a place in which it can breathe a little easier.

 

Projects 92: Yin Xiuzhen at The Museum of Modern Art runs through May 24^th

 

The Museum of Modern Art    

11 West 53^rd Street

Take the B, D or F to 47-50^th Streets/Rockefeller Center, the E or V to 53^rd Street/5^th Avenue, the N or R to 5^th Avenue/59^th St., or the 6 train to 51^st Street

Museum Hours: Sat, Sun, M, W, Thurs, 10:30am-5:30pm; F 10:30am-8pm

Exhibition website: http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/exhibitions/1034

Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle: “Happiness is a state of inertia” at Max Protetch Gallery

By: Simmy Swinder

 

 

 

 
Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle, Iceberg B15 (12/18/03 05:20 GMT), 2010, archival giclee prints, 26 x 20 inches and 40 x 52 inches. ©Max Protetch Gallery.

 

 

  Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle uses aerial shots of Antarctic icebergs, taken by NASA between 2001 and 2005, to create crisp and striking photographs that do more than please the eye; they raise metaphysical questions about the future of such environs. Manglano-Ovalle’s solo exhibition at Max Protetch Gallery is composed of six giclee prints of icebergs, an aluminum glass sculpture with live Blind Mexican Cave fish, and three other works unrelated to the exhibition at large.

 

 

 

Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle, Iceberg B15 (12/15/05 21:55 GMT), 2010, archival giclee prints , 26 x 20 inches and 40 x 52 inches. ©Max Protetch Gallery.

 

  The six black and white photographs are evenly dispersed around the gallery walls, gradating clockwise from lighter to darker. The images of icy corners formed by fine lines are austere. As I moved through the room, I noticed each photograph was similar in composition but different in detail. Each one had icebergs forming a frame with a lake in the center, in which floated smaller island-like icebergs that resembled the shape of a human skull. The final photograph in the show, indicative of curatorial foresight, was composed of the same icebergs that formed the frame but the middle was empty a black abyss where I saw my own reflection. I bet this culmination was deliberate. Manglano-Ovalle’s concern with climate ruination and environmental systems is apparent not only in his work, but also in how his work is arranged. The symbolism created by placing a succession of melted icecaps resembling skulls and ending with a photo in which the viewer can see her or his reflection places the viewer in direct relation with the apocalyptic narrative.

 

 Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle , Bauen, 2010, aluminum, glass, water and astyanax fasciatus mexicanus, 27 ½ x 54 ½ x 54 ½ inches. ©Max Protetch Gallery.

 

  The photographs are conceptually engaging and made me wonder how they related to Bauen, a sculpture based on the Mies van der Rohe 50x50 House. In Bauen, tiny fish swim in an artificially regulated climate, suggestive of a similarly forced habitat humans might have to create and adapt to if environmental conditions continue to deteriorate. The house is also the inspiration for Manglano-Ovalle’s Gravity is a Force to be Reckoned With, a scaled down version of the model currently on view at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art. There, the artist turns the small-scale home upside-down; the floor is the ceiling with models of van der Rohe-designed furniture affixed on the ceiling, once again questioning traditional models of living habitats and whether current systems are at risk.

 

   

“Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle : Happiness is a state of inertia” at Max Protetch runs through April 3^rd

Max Protetch Gallery

 

 

511 West 22^nd Street

Take the C or E train to 23rd Street and/or to the M23bus to 23rd Street and 11th Avenue

Gallery Hours: Tue-Sat, 10-6

Gallery Website: www.maxprotetch.com

“Rezi van Lankveld: Figures in the Abstract” at Friedrich Petzel Gallery

By: Simmy Swinder

 

 

Rezi van Lankveld, Spirit. Courtesy of the artist and Friedrich Petzel Gallery, New York. Photograph by Colby Bird.

 

    Friedrich Petzel Gallery, a modest space, was perfectly suited for the second New York solo exhibition of Amsterdam-based artist Rezi van Lankveld. The exhibition only contained nine paintings of varying sizes, however, each work is powerful enough to stand on its own. Upon first glance, the thickly layered oil on canvases seems to be of the Abstract Expressionist style: forceful, energetic, and spontaneous. But Van Lankveld goes beyond the post-war style by organically painting her canvas to look like objects found in nature, in particular marble rock. Through a careful balance between calculated painting and free-flowing movement, the artist subtly inserts all kinds of objects throughout her paintings, such as human facial features, animals such as a penguin, bear, and swan, and landscape silhouettes. The inconspicuous figuration begs the viewer to look closer and longer to find the hidden figure, much like a less dizzying version of the Magic Eye book series.

  Van Lankveld uses fluid movement and a limited palette—two to three subdued hues of blue and grey—giving the works a potentially chilling effect. Yet the large brushstrokes, layered paint, in some places use of the impasto technique draw the viewer closer. Moreover, the selection of the colors in conjunction with the painting style emit the impression of the ephemeral, quiet and eerie but nonetheless pleasant. In addition, the compositions are centered and well balanced.

   The nine paintings at Friedrich Petzel Gallery beg the question of how much of the brushwork is deliberate and conscious and how much is spontaneous and of the subconscious? The experience of finding figuration in the abstract is akin to finding faces in nature—in trees, rocks, and clouds. The artist executes these effects with great skill and purposeful care. The exhibition is certainly worth a visit, as many art historical influences, such as the phantoms of Francisco Goya’s paintings and Surrealist notions of the subconscious seeping into the conscious mind are present. Van Lankveld is often compared to her contemporary, Cecily Brown but her restricted color palette, limited use of the canvas, and more concealed figures make her paintings works of their own merit.

Rezi van Lankveld at Friedrich Petzel Gallery runs through March 13^th  

Friedrich Petzel Gallery

537 West 22^nd Street

Take the C or E train to 23^rd Street and/or to the M23bus to 23^rd Street and 11^th Avenue

Gallery Hours: Tue-Sat, 10-6

Gallery Website: http://www.petzel.com/

“The Gentrification of Brooklyn: The Pink Elephant Speaks” at the Museum of Contemporary African Diaspora Art

By: Jessica Manchester

    

Guest curated by local Brooklynite Dexter Wimberley, "The Gentrification of Brooklyn: The Pink Elephant Speaks"  his latest exhibit, had already raised eyebrows prior to its opening Thursday, February 4th.  Showing at the Museum of Contemporary African Diaspora Art (MoCADA) in Fort Greene), the group exhibit features twenty artists, working in various media whose art takes a deeper look into the impact of gentrification and "deciphers and reconciles the sweeping changes taking place" in Brooklyn.  I made my way into the small, packed to the brim studio space.

Media range from video, photography, audio, sculpture, drawing and painting. As you walk into the space more than just the visual is instantly engaged as Adele Pham's Fulton Street video footage of interviews and the hardships endured is all you can hear.  Meanwhile, blaring in the background is a constant babble of 3 audio/video art installations such as Zachary Fabri's The Big Paycheck hip hop video which spits out lyrics as art.  Before I even had time to absorb the lryrics my eyes were immeadiatly drawn to the ground the first thing I noticed was Josh Bricker's Anatex or rollercoaster toys that lined the bottom of the wall.  The Order of Things breathes new life into a nostalgic childhood toy, and brings light to the visual shift in the urban and cultural landscape, by use of color and differentiation, each toy becoming slightly more unrecognizable than the last by use of color and differentiation and complexity.

 
Josh Bricker, The Order of Things (partial).  Image courtesy of http://dailyserving.com/2010/02/the-gentrification-of-brooklyn-the-pink-elephant-speaks

 

Along the opposing wall was an innovative piece, which at first glance looked like an abstract installation of a map of New York’s subway system, lately known as Mess Transit according to various articles and.  Locations and Dislocations by Sarah Nelson Wright is a visual mapping of six individual's travels, moves and endeavors due to the effects of gentrification, urban expansion, rising rent and personal hardships.  Each individuals journey is a color-coded line drawing of the local's literal movement around the borough and collaged together upon a no longer existing map of Brooklyn.  Alongside the collage and mixture of several lives is a simple mapping of their independent adventures and simplified list of their locations and dislocations in Brooklyn.  Whether it was motivated by love, heartbreak, rising rent or lost job, the piece has a lot of soul and is beautifully composed. 

 

Sarah Nelson Wright, Locations and Dislocation (detail). Image courtesy of www.sarahnelsonwright.com

  One wall in particular invites you to interact and engage with the artwork through the use of headphones, perched alongside four photos, individuals from around Brooklyn telling the stories of gentrifiers and gentrifyees.  Adele Pham’s work includes stories that move you to really think and ponder over the pros and cons of urban expansion and gentrification. I highly recommend Track 6, telling the story of a mother, Maisha Morales, and son, Anthony, a 9-day eviction notice, Bloomberg’s involvement, or lack thereof, and the demise of her boutique .  Directly after   this is the heart wrenching interview by a Brooklyn native of over 60 years, an old woman, who tells the story of her appreciation for the physical changes in the landscape, how Brooklyn used to be and the dropping crime rates.  However, what is most telling about this interview is the angst she expresses in no longer having all this beauty to share with all of her old friends who have been forced out and were once the very people that made Brooklyn so full of culture and character. 

  In the last room, nestled in the far back left corner of the exhibit, is an ongoing communal sculpture that thrives on your personal touch.  Law of Growth is a collaborative effort by both the artist and the viewer and by anyone willing to spread his or her ideas.  Accompanied by a note pad, these living giant seeds made of wood, canvas, sisal, quartz and salt invite you to plant an idea into Brooklyn Society and cultural landscape.  Reminiscent of tribal art they look like giant seeds gently wrapped in hemp like something out of the South American indigenous tribal art at the MET.  At the end of the exhibit the artist intends to plant these ideas throughout Brooklyn and put them to action  The 3 seeds stand about 5 feet tall nestled into the far corner spilling into the middle of the room.  Simple messages such as “love” or peace are inadvertently scattered next to thoughts of extracurricular leagues, more parks and bringing back the soul of Brooklyn that has been lost. 

  The final piece that I had the pleasure of coming upon was Nathan Kensinger's Nathan Kensinger’s series of 16 photos taken over the past 5 years. The photos take you on a visual exploration from the historic water front neighborhoods that have been destroyed to make way for eco-friendly establishments....to the remaining piles of rubble resulting from this change/destruction.The ironic and satirical nature of some of these photos seems to lighten the mood that settles in once you realize what is happening here, there and everywhere throughout Brooklyn.

 
  Nathan Kensinger, Ikea Rising, 2006. Image courtesy of http://kensinger.blogspot.com/2007/03/ikea-rising.html

 

Scrapbook-style photos and essays from The Brooklyn Community Arts and Media High School documenting the impact that gentrification had on the next generation are also on display. The museum intends to have ongoing programs to compliment the exhibit throughout its run, which goes until May 16^th.  Situated in the midst of Fort Greene, which is a gentrification success story in and of itself, the funky juxtaposition of mediums that spell the stories of the modern movement of Brooklyn allows artistic exploration to thrive.  Judge for yourself and see whether the transformation of Brooklyn is a story of success or of a shattered culture.

 

"The Gentrification of Brooklyn: The Pink Elephant Speaks" at MoCADA through May 16th

Museum of Contemporary African Diasporan Arts (MoCADA)

80 Hanson Place

Take the C Train to Lafayette or the 2,3,4 or 5 train to Atlantic Ave

Gallery Hours: Wed-Sun, 11 am to 6 pm

Gallery Website:www.mocada.org