How to Look
At the Whitney Biennial in NY recently, I overheard a father say to his son,
"Just walk until you see something you like, then look at it."
This seems like the simplest and best suggestion of what to do at exhibitions.
I would suggest that while looking, you should consider the following:
What is the work made of?
What does it require of you?
Do you have to stand far away or go up close, or both?
How are you rewarded at these different distances?
How do you feel while looking?
What does the work remind you of--other art, experiences you've had?
How long can you look? What do you see after a few seconds, a few minutes?
What is the title of the work? Does the title help you know more?
How might you explain the work to someone else?
What words would you use?
I had an experience at our gallery the other day, when 30 schoolchildren (12-14 year olds) from Tennessee came to visit. They sat in front of Jack Whitten's overwhelming memorial painting
9-11-01. I did not tell them about the work's subject (the bombing of the World Trade Towers) but rather asked them what they saw. They described the dominant black pyramid. I asked them, "where do you see a pyramid each day?" They said, "On the one dollar bill."
I asked them about what the bottom half of the painting looked like? "Debris," they said. They noticed tire treads, dirt, and photographic images. They said that the paint looked burnt. They saw a gray fish shape. "Where is that?,"I said. A young girl responded, "Over there, haven't you looked at this painting?!" I had to laugh. I've seen the work several times but obviously have missed things.
After a few minutes of them describing what they saw and how they felt, I told them what inspired the painting. They all knew about 9/11, and were amazed at how in tune with the work they were. Some kids took out there cameras and photographed themselves in front of their favorite works, or took detail shots of parts they liked. I told them about who the paintings were inspired by and dedicated to-- various artists and musicians, family members, and events.
On their way out, another girl took me aside and said, "I really like this artist."
"What do you like about him?," I asked.
Looking up at me, she answered, "I like the way he cares."
peripheral pleasures
I've been thinking about some of the peripheral pleasures of curating. When exhibitions are open to the public, the greatest part of my work is seeing and hearing people respond to the art.
What do they think or feel in the gallery? Are they stimulated, confused, curious?
This is the viewer's 50% contribution to the art experience that Marcel Duchamp spoke of.
But there is a hidden aspect to exhibit-making too, and this includes the spirited discussions with artists in studios and restaurants, the opening of crates, hoping for positive reviews, and shooting documentation. What follows is a gallery of images that sheds some light on this part of the process.
Here is Matt Bryans playing with his first Krispy Kreme doughnut in October of 2006.
Here are Anissa Mack and Russell Maltz enjoying some ribs at Fatt Matt's Rib Shack this February.
Soon after these lip-smacking pictures were taken, Russell and I rented a helicopter to document his tandem installations at the Contemporary, and on real estate developer Tim Schrager's construction site at Decatur Street and Hill Street. While we were up there, we flew over Sol Le Witt's
54 Columns, which was an inspiration for the project.
The Contemporary pavillion.
Decatur Street site.
54 Columns
Tim Schrager in the helicopter.
Tim and Perennial Properties were essential to the success of Maltz's installations.
A heartfelt thanks to him for donating materials and the downtown site.
Considering views from above, here is artist Daniel Duford and his daughter Devlin in Portland, Oregon. Daniel will be exhibiting drawings and sculptures in our Main Gallery this summer.
Two Talks
Here are two provocatve talks that are helping me understand the complexities of desire. I have been thinking about the subject with regard to the diverse Atlanta art audience and our exhibition and educational offerings at the Contemporary.
Watch writer Malcolm Gladwell discuss what we can learn from spaghetti sauce and painter Tom Nozkowski finding inspiration on a hike in upstate New York.
http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/view/id/20
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nxi82Ne9yxQ
New York trip
January 11:
We visited the new New Museum on the Bowery, as much to see the exhibition of assemblage sculpture called "Unmonumental:The Object in the 21st century," as to peruse the building. Sheathed in metal mesh over jauntily stacked floors from bottom to top, the architecture beautifully integrates into the street culture of restaurant supply and lighting stores, apartment buildings, and neighborhood shops. The exhibition features works by artists including Isa Genzken, Rachel Harrison, Sam Durant, Sarah Lucas, Jim Lambie, Carol Bove, and others.
Curator Laura Hoptman generously gave us an introduction to the show's ideological framework while happily sharing the joys and relief of opening the museum on time and on budget (no small feat these days!).
After the museum, we visited Diane Villani Editions, an established print publisher in Soho, known for her work with artists including Alison Saar, Fred Sandback, Joanne Greenbaum, and Ida Applebroog. Of particular interest to us, were new lithographs with chine colle by Atlanta-based artist Jiha Moon. These works feature imagery sitting on and around a centrally located fan shape, a new pictorial device for the artist.
Nahan's Forty Winks (image below) has a coloring book clarity and Moon's classic combination of traditional Korean landscape space, abstract gestures, ripe peaches (a nod to her Georgian state of mind), and lush color.
We wound up our day at sculptor Lisa Hoke's studio, to talk with her about her Rube Goldberg-like installations featuring plastic cups, paint, lighting gels, aluminum, and various hardware. Ecstatic and ephemeral, her works exploit existing architectures and examine conditions of balance, color, and consumption. Hoke has made a distinct shift from a traditional studio-based practice to working on large scale commissions, and she happily discussed the pros and cons of this choice (including her use of ebay as a source for commercially produced products).
The Rhapsody of Chaos, 2007, at the Elizabeth Harris Gallery (image below) is indicative of her recent projects.
January 12:
We traveled out to painter Jack Whitten's studio in Queens, where we discussed his upcoming exhibition of Memorial Paintings at the Contemporary (April 18-June 14). Trip participants were treated to a lively round of storytelling by the artist; recalling his interactions with jazz greats Dizzie Gillespie and Milt Jackson, and his intense emotions on September 11th, as he watched the attacks on the Twin Towers at close range. His painting
9-11-01 is seen below, a 120 x 240 inch canvas featuring an overpowering black pyramid shape (taken from the U.S. dollar bill) made with acrylic paint combined with bits of bone, ash, blood, and other elements.
Whitten gave an impromptu demonstration of how he works, encouraging people to touch the "skins" of paint that he uses to create his diverse palette.
Back in Manhattan, we made our way to the Whitney Museum of American Art where we saw
My Complement, My Enemy, My Oppressor, My Love; the ferocious survey of wall works, drawings, and films by Kara Walker. After dealing with the complex emotions that Walker's works prompt, we were engaged and delighted by legendary Conceptual artist Lawrence Weiner. His accessible and physical language-based works were the perfect conclusion to our trip-- a combination of looking, thinking, and being together.
Poets Coming
Mira Schor
Empty Speech Bubble
2007
As part of our Artist Survival Skills series, I have invited poets Wayne Koestenbaum (March 8) and Michael Coffey (March 21) to come and read poems that are inspired or structured by modern and contemporary art movements including Abstract Expressionism, Minimalism, POP, and Conceptual Art. In preparation for their arrival, I have been perusing some of their books but also The Last Avant-Garde: The Making of the New York School of Poets by David Lehman, and The Answers Are Inside the Mountains: Meditations on the Writing Life by William Stafford.
The following lines are taken from these books and have as much to say about visual art as they do about poetry. The relevance of place is examined, and I think this is particularly interesting for artists who are struggling with questions of what can or cannot happen for them in Atlanta. There are also useful comments about talent, career, and audience.
From The Last Avant-Garde
"For a long time everybody refuses and then almost without a pause almost everyone accepts. In the history of the refused in the arts and literature the rapidity of the change is always startling.
Gertrude Stein 1926
Kafka's parable: Leopards in the Temple
"Leopards break into the temple and drink up the contents of the sacrificial pitchers; this is repeated again and again; finally it can be calculated in advance, and it becomes part of the ceremony."
John Ashbery on living in New York:
"One could think of oneself as living in the world, whereas in Key West, let's say, one is all to aware of being in Key West."
"To be in the center of a cheering mob is no better for the artist than creating in a vacuum."
John Ashbery
"Along with so much that weighs on our minds there is perhaps even more that grates on our nerves."
Louis Kronenberger
Kenneth Koch on Frank O'Hara:
"The silliest idea actually in his head was better than the most profound idea actually in someone else's head."
"All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling."
Oscar Wilde
"I have to change in order to stay the same."
De Kooning
"It is characteristic of great poetry that you can enjoy it before you understand it."
T.S. Eliot
From The Answers Are Inside the Mountains
"Where you live is not crucial, but how you feel about where you live is crucial."
"Maybe one feels neglected only if one has an opinion of one's rightful place, and I don't have that opinion. That's up to the world."
The Reality
The reality is that thousands of arts professionals and enthusiasts did descend on Miami, trying to negotiate, infiltrate, and consummate the 20 plus simultaneous fairs. Aesthetic and economic indicators were on view in a blur of fashion, gossip,VIP-ness, and booze.
Here I am reflected in the helmet of Matthew Day Jackson's space suit, which was part of his diverse but integrated solo project at Marfa Ballroom (a not-for-profit from that other artworld mecca-Marfa, Texas). His works are always culturally and historically rich, and this installation made connections between Buckminster Fuller, the vat of poisoned Kool-Aid from Jim Jones's compound in Guyana, constellations and military test sites.
There were times during the 3 days of non-stop looking and talking that I wished I could've slipped into this protective garment and silently perused the stalls, containers, and hotel rooms.
But alas, it was sold.
Amanda Ross-Ho's installation at Cherry & Martin (Los Angeles) was a generative studio/showroom, as her pattern-cut sheetrock was host for collage drawings, studio photos, cut paper samples, and paint stained towels. These systemic overlays are sensual and strategic in a Jasper Johns kind of way, and Ross-Ho uses an expanded palette of painted and printed materials with great gusto. I'm looking forward to seeing more of her enigmatic work in the upcoming Whitney Biennial.
With a photo mural of his home office as backdrop for his videos, photos, and promotional materials, Douglas Weathersby made a significant contribution to booth by Solomon Projects (Atlanta). Stacked monitors showed a selection of his videos of dry and wet painterly gestures (included in the
Louis Morris exhibition at The Contemporary in fall of 2006), while real shelves mixed it up with replicated ones. This dense and dynamic corner within a corner provided a strong gravitational pull, sucking viewers in to look at Weathersby's own productions as well as equally robust art by Joe Peragine, David Humphrey, and Scott Ingram.
Back in Atlanta, these three artists and the spaces that brought them are what I am thinking about.
The Dream
I got to Miami Basel and no one was there.
I asked the manager at the Sagamore Hotel what the hell was going on, and he said,
"Oh, that. They had to cancel all those fairs. Not enough interest."
I felt like a Tony Oursler head with bulging eyes and a twisted mouth.
"What??!! Do the Rubells know about this? Where is Jeffrey Deitch?"
Distressed, I bought a Cuban coffee and walked down Collins Avenue.
A cab passed me, and I could have sworn that my grandparents were inside, sitting quietly.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
I turned right at 20th Street and hit the beach. The palms were blowing.
My BlackBerry was warm. I was texting and calling like crazy.
