Brave New World? Maybe, maybe not...

‘After Nature’ at The New Museum of Contemporary Art
July 17 – September 21, 2008

Werner Hertzog’s film Lessons of Darkness uses dramatic footage taken from a helicopter sweeping over thick black smoke of the 1991 Kuwait oil well fires. This is interspersed with stark testimonials by individuals who survived the traumas of the Gulf War on the ground. A heroic soundtrack, text-cards of bible quotes and Hertzog’s moralizing voiceover ensures Lessons of Darkness is a vision of a post-apocalyptic nightmare.

The exhibition ‘After Nature’ takes Hertzog’s film as a starting point for bringing together artworks that consider contemporary ideas about a future beyond mankind. Drawing on contemporary, futuristic and everything-in-between imagery, the art on display is a real mixed-bag; a sweeping emotional spectrum of hope, cynicism and apathy. However, in a climate of global-warming and environmental degradation, political and social commentary is pointedly kept to a minimum.

Zoë Leonard’s Tree (1997), fused together from metal and wood, acts as an eerie reminder of a cyborg technology that already exists; on urban footpaths trees are choked by the concrete they emerge from, only to be kept upright by metal beams and wires.

Zoe Leonard, Tree, 1997. Wood, steal and steal cables

Paweł Althamer’s life-size figures made from grass and animal intestines seem like crude set pieces for an end-of-the-world production. The artist depicts himself in Pawał and Monica (2002) with a female partner. The rough semi-translucent complexion of the couple composed with intestine skin contrasts with the video camera and cell phone they hold. Reminiscent of Duane Hanson’s hyper-real sculptures of tourists, Althamer’s Pawał and Monica become tourists of their own demise.

Leonard and Althamer’s works share a sinister and fatalistic perspective on civilization’s progress towards an end, however the older works in this multigenerational exhibition look to the future with a sincere sense of wonder at the wonderful.

Eugene Von Bruenchenhein’s luminous paintings of celestial cities from the 1950s, while depicting atomic explosions, use the apocalyptic subject to express a sense of awe at the infinite beauty they will create.

Eugene Von Bruenchenhein, Atomic Age, 1955

August Strindberg’s naïve attempts to create a photogram of the universe in the late 19th century (by simply exposing photographic plates to the night sky) result in images that looks remarkably like a galaxy. It is as if Strindberg’s hopeful vision alone drove the success of his project.

August Strindberg, Celestograph, 1894

When the political seeps into the exhibition it is strangely diminished, absurd even, within the grand vision of an uncertain, yet inevitable, future for the world.

Robert Kusmirowski’s life-size recreation of the Unabomber Ted Kaczynski’s cabin (looking like a pre-exploded Cornelia Parker installation) seems out of place by its specific thematic tethering to recent events. Connecting the dots between acts of terrorism in the late 20th century and the end of mankind seems… like a lot of messy philosophical and political dots.

Robert Kusmirowski's reproduction of Theodore Kaczynski's cabin

Erik van Lieshout’s video Hope (2008) tells the story of the artist and his mother traveling to Africa to, simply put, ‘save’ it. By cobbling together the most trivial and absurd footage from their trip van Lieshout attempts to express the ‘impossible absurdity of death’. The outcome is so self-conscious that, while it works as a critique of artists’ vanity, within the context of ‘Beyond Nature’ the implications of Africa's doom seem unfair in the light of van Lieshout’s deliberate indifference to his subject.

‘After Nature’ works best when the artworks take science-fiction, i.e. established ideas of what the future may be like, as a starting point for extrapolating on contemporary states of mind. It is certainly interesting to imagine a world ‘after nature’, and art is a dynamic tool for theorizing space as the next frontier. Robert Cuoghi’s delicate images of crystallized biomorphic forms could be representations of a star being born. Or perhaps a star’s death? The intentional ambiguity over whether the concept of ‘after nature’ is an ultimate end or a beautiful beginning stimulates a sense of infinite possibly… and this is no small achievement.

It's not often an exhibition of contemporary can fail...

‘Paul McCarthy: Central Symmetrical Rotation Movement Three Installations, Two Films’ at the Whitney Museum of American Art

Until October 12 , 2008

Paul McCarthy’s new exhibition at the Whitney Museum is a mix of old and new works, video and kinetic installations, brought together with the intent to “use of architecture to create perceptual disorientation in the viewer”.

And it does.

Not only does McCarthy succeed in creating perceptual disorientation, but ‘Central Symmetrical Rotation Movement’ is such a thoroughly confusing museum experience that my friend almost got himself thrown own of the exhibition.

Upon entering the gallery the first large installation on display is Mad House (1999/2000). This work is comprised of a small pine and metal room containing an office chair. The room is mounted on a pedestal that spins the room intermittently at various speeds. In the same utilitarian non-aesthetic as the room there is a large metal box next to the ‘house’ that features old-fashioned buttons with cartoon labels; go, stop, spin, etc.

When Mad House stopped spinning my friend wandered over to the metal box and pressed the ‘spin’ button expecting something exciting to happen…

And it did.

A museum docent came rushing up to him shouting, ‘Don’t touch that!’ My friend jumped back as if the box had bit him, but the docent kept shouting, ‘What are you doing! You’re not supposed to touch that!’

My friend was incredulous in his defense, ‘Are you serious? I thought you were meant to press the buttons.’

The docent was not impressed, ‘What are you a wise-guy or something? You think you’re a wise-guy?’

I have never seen such a passionate display of rule-enforcement in a gallery before. One time at the MoCA exhibition ‘Ecstasy’ I experienced a testy exchange with a man whose job it was to guard a fountain running with liquid LSD; apparently I got too close. However, in general the line between passive-appreciation and encouraged-interaction is pretty clear.

Not so with ‘Central Symmetrical Rotation Movement’.

As the wall text explains, ‘[The exhibition examines] the way the body is destabilized through dislocation of architectural space.’ True. Although the manner in which this dislocation occurs is quite unexpected. My friend’s destabilization was so thorough he left the exhibition in disgust to wait outside. As I wandered through the rest of the exhibition Paul McCarthy continued to surprise with the installations Bang Bang Room (1992) and Spinning Room (2008).

Spinning Room comprises of four large screens forming an open-room the viewer can stand within. Spinning cameras mounted within the room then project whirling images of the viewers back onto the screens. In theory. Unfortunately the Spinning Room was broken, stuck in a loop it projected only one image – a man looking remarkably like the character Steve from ‘Sex in the City’. My destabilization took the form of disappointment.

Paul McCarthy, Spinning Room, 2008. Installation view with healthy spin

Bang Bang Room was also broken. Looking like a peeled open version of Mad House, this installation sat unmoving, with pine platform (that you were allowed to walk on) and peeled-open walls featuring half-open doors (that you weren’t allowed to touch). A friendlier docent explained to me when the Bang Bang Room is working the doors open and close, however unfortunately the hydraulics were broken so no bang bang.

The docent then noticed Spinning Room was “working better” and advised I go look. I got a small vanity fix seeing my image jerking around upon the four screens. However, the projection was so blurred and hesitant, intermixed with the rainbow-error bars, the installation felt quite sick. In the context of conked-out and verbal-abuse-inducing art, the other minor works in the exhibition were very tame. McCarthy’s simple black and white videos seemed like a triumph of modern technology and film-making. Which they are not. They are really quite dull.

On my way out of ‘Central Symmetrical Rotation Movement’ I returned to the introductory wall text, hoping it might fill in some gaps between ‘broken’ and ‘yelled at’. This ambiguous statement caught my eye: ‘At the core of McCarthy’s work lies the impulse to question everything.’

To question architectural spaces and our assumptions of them…

To question the role of docents in museums…

To question a museum’s responsibility to care for an artist’s work and ensure it doesn’t break…

To question the artist’s responsibility to create artwork that won’t break…

To question the meaning of art that sometimes doesn’t work and then starts ‘working better’…

Two exhibitions at the New York Historical Society...

Woven Splendor from Timbuktu to Tibet: Exotic Rugs and Textiles from New York Collectors

Allure of the East: Orientalism in New York, 1850–1930

Both April 11 – August 17, 2008


Two exhibitions at the New York Historical Society create an interesting dialogue on the topic of Orientalism.

Why is the New York Historical Society, an institution dedicated to “documenting the history of the United States as seen through the prism of New York”, currently hosting an exhibition of exotic rugs, ‘Woven Splendor from Timbuktu to Tibet’?

The answer is simple: Orientalism.

Back in the mid-to-late 19th century, when a real New York society man wore a fez and smoked Turkish cigarettes, Orientalism was a fashion stemming from a quixotic fascination with all things exotic. ‘Allure of the East: Orientalism in New York’, partner exhibition to ‘Woven Splendor’, exhibits the stimuli that prompted this trend for the Orient. Paintings, travel writing and photography from North Africa and the Middle East, drove New Yorkers to decorate their drawing rooms with ‘Moorish’ chandeliers and attend fancy dress parties costumed as Arabian princesses. It was all jolly good fun.

Of course, Edward Said ruined our ability for imaginary nostalgia with his 1978 book, Orientalism, in which he made the acerbic point: Orientalism was really “fundamentally a political doctrine willed over the Orient because the Orient was weaker than the West”. Thirty years later, the exhibition ‘Allure of the East’ can’t help but concur. A wall text almost seems to apologize, “[S]ome of these alluring representations served Western assumptions of supremacy by constituting stereotypes that suggest cultural inferiority.” Oh dear, ogling at ogees suddenly seems less fun… Better move on to ‘Woven Splendor’.

‘Woven Splendor’ exhibits a collection of rugs and textiles amassed over the years by wealthy New York gentlemen who started a club called Hajji Baba in order to come together enthuse over their love of collecting oriental rugs. I suppose if you learn a thing or two about the peculiarities of Orientalism while visiting ‘Allure of the East’ then this doesn’t seem quite so randomly strange.

While Orientalism may not be flavor-of-the-century, by couching ‘Woven Splendor’ in ideas of a generalized Orient the curators of the exhibition are doing the viewer a big favor: They are removing the duty of a history and geography lesson, and allowing the textiles to speak for themselves. Another museum might have been tempted to litter the exhibition with maps and diagrams that explain and locate everything from Akstafa to Azerbaijan. ‘Woven Splendor’, in its grand sweep of the Orient, is refreshingly free of definitions. While the cultural information that is present, located on extended photo and text labels placed close to the floor, is understated.

Instead of grouping the textiles by regional or ethnic affinity, the items on display are loosely gathered around assorted subjects such as ‘Clothes’, ‘Felt’, ‘Turkmen’, and ‘Silks and Carpets for High Society’. These disparate assemblages allow for striking displays of fabrics and textiles that are beautifully illuminated against dark grey walls. The colors are amazing. An Ikat silk glows and blends with psychedelic effects, the result of a single thread being selectively dyed in a complex process as it is woven. While a Kyrgyz felt packs a punch with bold repetition that, just like a mosaic, reveals subtle irregularities on closer inspection.

By the way, a textile is a woven material, whereas felt is bonded so it is considered a fabric. These kinds of facts pop out at you on larger text panels dispersed throughout the gallery. While not quite scholarly and seemingly very random, the best thing about this information is that it in no way attempts to be comprehensive. It is a piecemeal story of artisans creating textiles and fabrics, often for utilitarian purposes, yet always with beauty in mind.

Why am I so happy not to be hit over the head with encyclopedic facts? Didn’t Said warn against the perils of empty gestures towards the Orient representing the stereotyping of cultural inferiority? I argue Orientalism exists in a vacuum today because by definition it is a projection of value that no longer exists. A visitor to the New York Historical Society does not bring with them ideas of generalized cultural inferiority between a mythical ‘east’ and an unspecified ‘west’. Therefore, there is no need for the curators of the exhibition to apologize for the awkward Orientalist roots of ‘Woven Splendor’. And they don’t. Having gazed at Karakalpak weavings and Tajik veils, a quick visit back into the partner exhibition ‘Allure of the East’ says it all, highlighting exactly how silly and irrelevant Orientalism was in New York.

‘Woven Splendor’ is simply a stunning exhibition. It showcases skill and vision across a broad region that, in a contemporary climate of war and the absurd (Iraq, Afghanistan, Borat…), is often ignored for its cultural practices and artistic output. Through focusing on the woven splendor produced in the Middle East, North Africa and Central Asia this exhibition gently tells us of the diversity and depth of textile traditions. While, the act of assembling together works created across vast periods of time illustrates the resilience and strength of these traditions.

‘Woven Splendor’ says much of Orientalism; it puts ‘Allure of the East’ into context as a superficial trend, a strange and silly blip in the history of fashionable society in New York. On the other hand, ‘Allure of the East’ can not say much for ‘Woven Splendor’ beyond offering a fuzzy preamble; these textiles have their own rich story to tell.

Ikat Velvet Robe, Uzbekistan, 19th Century, silk velvet, 127 x 150 cm (50 x 59 in.)

Oswald Ottendorfer Pavilion (located Riverside Drive between 135th and 136th Streets), D. Appleton & Co., 1883-1884

Saddle Cover, Azerbaijan, 19th Century, wool, leather, silk embroidery, 104 x 139.7 cm (41 x 55 in.)