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Gordon Matta-Clark

Is it too early to say you have a new artist in your top ten favorites list if you have only known about them for a few short weeks? If so then I am completely guilty; Gordon Matta-Clark’s work has shifted what I thought art could be, instead of creation, art can also be a form of destruction, containing chaos and making it for the people. Another star from the 70s, Matta-Clark's career has made a lasting impression in both installation and architecture despite only being active for a few short years. While perhaps on my mind just because of our gallery visits, one of the more obvious examples of his influence today can be seen in Rirkrit Tiravanija's work. An early prototype to the work Tiravanija is doing; FOOD, was about community and bringing together artists, enthusiasts, and creatives alike in a space that was not exactly legal in the eyes of most, but created a unique environment that encouraged conversation and stimulation of all senses. While Tiravanija's work is not a direct reference, he does work in a similar vein, cooking for his audience in order to engage us completely, and using taste and sent as a way to create and conjure up memories; giving the finite materials life after they have already been consumed. Of course, FOOD was a product of the times that it was developed in; the 1970s were a time of social unrest, change, protest, and trying to find meaning and cause in a time where it seemed as if one's own government was no longer on their side. Anarchy in its most gentle state, FOOD was about helping a community that had been left behind. Thinking about this work in 2017 has made me realize just how relevant its message is now, and how an operation of similar values could function today in New York; perhaps not SoHo, but an area like the Bronx. In fact, I am surprised we don't see more examples of this “guerrilla kindness” (if you will), due to the fact we are in a similar political environment to when FOOD was created and Matta-Clark was at his most active.

I am choosing to believe that Matta-Clark will come back into our contemporary art radar in the next couple of months. Maybe it is because I am hyper focused on the current era of the 1970s, but there has been a trend of 70s aesthetics and art becoming more and more relevant in today's works and political protest movements. Seeing Matta-Clarks work displayed in the Bronx Museum, knowing the attention his works garnered in 2013 at MoMA, and the recreation of Days End coming soon, perhaps it is already happening and his work is coming full circle in today's heavily reactive contemporary art scene. A responsive figure with a loud and radical body of work and no fears of the repercussions might just be what today's young artists standing up against the current regime need to see; a green light and reassurance that we are not alone, this has been done before, and anarchy can be harnessed artistically to stand for a cause.

-Anna S. King (11.17.17)

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Rirkrit Tiravanija

As an artist working with installation, I have never been more inspired in my own work as I was when we experienced Rirkrit Tiravanija’s work at Gavin Brown's Enterprise. Devoting his time to set up an entire film shoot, recreate an hour long film as well as showing two others, and welcoming an audience into the space to live out parts of the film is a massive undertaking and one that takes an incomprehensible amount of time and devotion. Knowing that this is not even the fullest extent of his work makes it even more incredible, as Tiravanija is known to cook massive dinners for his guests. We were lucky enough to experience the “bar” with the star of his recreation of German film, Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, none other than artist Karl Holmqvist. This unique experience is something that I think might be exclusive to the experience of installation art. It is one thing to see a photographer's model at a gallery opening, but completely different is sitting down and experiencing the act of sharing a beverage, in the location, with the star of the work. This immerses the viewer into the work even more, and begins to blur the lines between reality and art. One can no longer tell what is meant to be viewed as a piece, or what is just an object that was left behind in the process of filming (or was left behind by a careless visitor). When exploring the space after seeing the film (on the fourth floor, so that one has to experience the installation before they see it in action), you develop a better sense of understand the artist's process, and can gage how much time and energy went into creating the piece. At the same time, even just walking around, sitting on a couch, picking up a cup, activates the space and brings it to life yet again. Even without the vigilance of being filmed, it is enough to witness the work with all of your senses, as opposed to just sight, which is the tradition in painting, photography, and often times sculpture. While this may be taken down in a number of years, the experiences had in this space create lasting memories that might stick with the viewer longer than simply looking at a piece, the fact that one can engage with the work bring a whole new sensory experience that one is often deprived in art, while also solving the problem of “museum fatigue”. 

In my own art, Rirkrit Tiravanija has helped me understand the importance of documenting the process of creating a set. The finished product is important of course, but what makes it any different from something you would experience in your own living room? The answer lies in the fact that it was built with intentionality, and the acquisition of the materials, the rearranging of objects, and displaying the overall process of creating is of equal importance as the artist's message upon completion.

-Anna S. King (10.27.17)

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MoMA PS1

Being socialized into the era of third wave feminism, it is easy to why so many fiercely judge the work of second wave feminism and its lack of representation for trans bodies. That being said, I am absolutely exhausted with the harsh critiques of second wave work in the 21st century. At the risk of generalizing, from my experiences, I see many young feminists who are passionate about the subject, but have not studied the movements complete history, and if they had, would be familiar with works of artists like Carolee Schneemann and understand why her work was so groundbreaking and vital to the movement at the time. Even in today's society where women are still experiencing sex based oppression there is a large backlash toward her work for focusing heavily on genitalia, but during the 1970s this was more than just for shock value, it was a way of reclaiming the female body, often subjugated by the male gaze in art, and making it belong to the owner of the body. Schneemann’s visual stunts provided and metaphorical view of the psychical pain and bending over backwards that a patriarchal society thrusts onto women, thus making a mold for us that we are forced to fit into in order to be seen as desirable (a construct that women should not be obligated to conform to in the first place). Perhaps white, lithe, Schneemann was not the one to be having this conversation being societies perfect image, but it was a discussion that needed to be had, and she was the one making the work with the body that would garner attention at the time, an unfortunate but unavoidable truth that still presents itself today; sex sells, and “attractive” persons grab attention.

The nature of Schneemanns art of course, is brutally honest, whether that is what the average viewer wants to see or not. While watching a woman kiss her cat a little too intimately or pull a manifesto out of her vagina is certainly not for everyone, there is something incredibly revolutionary about how she went about being unapologetically herself. Despite being the owner of a body that society deemed perfect, she did not use it for society's consumption, and instead made it into a revolutionary act to simply exist outside the confines of what was expected of femininity and sexuality the time, and what had been the standard for so long. Was it transphobic to focus on vaginas and vulva as being inherently feminine instead of including phalluses? Perhaps in a 2017 mindset, yet, but you have to crawl before you can walk, and feminist art today would be lacking without the messages that artists Schneemann and Chicago brought to the public, and how they helped shift the narrative on what it meant to occupy space as a woman in the 1970s and after.

Even know, I post this with anxiety hoping that my words are not twisted into a transphobic rhetoric but after hearing Schneemann be slammed by a contemporary audience of both men still disgusted by the female body existing outside of their expectations, and social justice activities claiming that Schneemann be taken down for not being inclusive enough; I think it is time we look back to our roots in today's feminist discussions and understand we have come a long way, but not without an older generation helping to make it possible.

-Anna S. King (11.10.17)

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Visual Arts Center, NJ

I was not terribly familiar with the Visual Arts Center of New Jersey, but had heard the name brought up a few times at work in the Morris Museum. In Northern Jersey (to my knowledge as an out-of-stater) the two most well known centers for the visual arts are the Newark Museum and the Montclair Museum; both large and with plenty of funding to back them up. I hate to sound cynical but I did not have high expectations for Summits local museum, and expected to pass through, engaged in the art at the time but not left with a lasting impression...I was completely wrong. My preemptive assumption was that a smaller institution would not be able to feature a captivating show was probably based on past experiences outside of art semester, but even today I find myself reflecting on the choices made in Julia Jacquette's borderline surreal paintings of luxury in advertising. Contemporary hyper-realism has never been a movement that captured me, I instead find myself drawn to extreme exaggeration or abstraction, but Jacquette’s handle on realism is different than so many i’ve seen before. Her decontextualization of images that we see every day provides not only an visually appealing image (who doesn't like looking at the luxurious golden hue of champagne), but also makes the viewer think twice about images we are desensitized to on a visual level, but ingrain themselves in our own psyche? We are constantly bombarded with images of glamour and wealth, and do not stop for a second to think about how they can permanently affect not only our spending habits, but also our judgment on what we think we need in our lives; creating a false perception of what everyone's life is supposed to look like. By taking these images and cropping them in strange or uncomfortable angles, what we have is a view on the bizarre world that is luxury advertizing, and by taking these images out of context we are left with how strange and abstract it can be, for example, focusing on a certain male celebrities ear makes us think less about the watch he was previously modeling. This use of abstraction not only shifts the view of the image, but also abstracts the purpose of the product and advertisement in the first place.

Her painting style is reminiscent of the early American realists like Hopper; a soft and clean touch with a saturated but darker pallet; taking the oddities or things overlooked in everyday life and highlighting them with a new, more refined focus. Jacquette's pallet is especially similar in her more subdued works that focus less on the shine and glamour of high end scotch and jewelry and instead display the mundane side of marketing, i.e outdated couches that at once represented the trending styles. We look back on this now with a distaste for the “unloved era” that is 60s and 70s casual home design, but the juxtaposition between our views and tastes past unveil a new understanding of how quickly trends fade, and how all the luxury products of today will be seen as tacky and outdated shorty, making it a futile cycle.

That being said, Jacquette's work does still appeal to the capitalist and materialist in us, enough that I have one of her (probably high-end) scotch paintings as my iPhone background.

-Anna S. King (11.3.17)

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Trip 6

Wandering through the Lower East Side galleries shows the diversity of the art work, but not without calling attention to the lack of diversity of artists represented in the upscale New York gallery community. While contemporary art has been seen as a boys club in years past, more and more women have excelled in the field and have made great strides in the contemporary art world, and while this is absolutely to be celebrated, it should not be done so without a critical eye. While there are a good many women artists who are featured in the galleries we visited, that is not enough to be considered a diverse lineup. The lack of artists of color shows that the New York high end art scene still has a long way to go before it can prove itself to be inclusive, especially considering how some of the most pressing issues today focus around the struggles of being a person of color in our current political agenda, and if art is supposed to be reactionary; where is the representation for these artist making work about living and facing this struggle every day?

 Of course, there are the exceptions, but upon going through our list of artists that we looked at that day I was shocked to see that all (to my understanding) were white or white passing. There is no doubt that the buyer controls the market, and that art collecting in New York is still heavily dominated by white men, but it is still shocking to see this cycle in action. Systematically it is harder for a person of color to prosper in New York, and therefore harder to afford expensive hobbies like art, but that has not discouraged a sizable group of POC artists to make work that receives critical acclaim, so where is their representation in the famed Lower East Side? A once affordable living space that now is a testament to the effects of gentrification. Even now, by displaying few if any artists of color we see these effects in action. What I can imagine would be even more discouraging is that while some of these artists are getting the media play; their bank accounts are still staying the same, and as more and more attention garners, more and more resources must go to purchasing supplies, studio rent, and gallery fees. 

That being said, there is no denying that the work we saw was groundbreaking and absolutely worthy of its position in a prestigious gallery. I also do not have as much background information on as many of the artists as I would like, and cannot speak for what experiences inspired their art or what hardships brought it to life, but this observation has made me realize that I need to be more aware of what it means to be a successful artist and how so much “success” relies on connections, privilege, and being controversial but not so much that it deters those with the purchasing power that can place you in the most prestigious places, and just because an artist does not have a major gallery behind them does not mean that their art is not saying what needs to be heard.

-Anna S. King (10.20.17)

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Trip 5

I am not sure how to even begin with describing the absolute character that is Joe Fyfe. The world traveler (vagabond is the word that comes to mind) and artist is everything I thought he would be, but also so full of surprises, in his own incredibly subtle way. The “original hipster” type, his work with textiles as paintings is refreshing and complex, while have an incredibly simple aesthetic and message; “I make what I like to see” are his exact words in fact. A man who is into not making art to appeal to the masses, but understands his own aesthetic values and does not waste time with works that he would not want to present in his own home; delightfully unpretentious, but the kind that can be misconstrued for the types of artists who do take themselves too seriously due to his source of materials. Without proper research on Joe Fyfe, one might expect him to be an extraordinarily wealthy man, a man who can travel and not think twice about it, picking up any eye catching materials along the way...this is not Joe. His meticulous budget friendly travels show passion and drive unseen in many today; finding anyway to go abroad on a dime for the sake of his work and the experiences that inspire him; Joe Fyfes large scale fabric “paintings” give the viewer insight into the daily lives of the cultures he visits on his travels. This is not a man simply vacationing for fun, but one who makes his travels absolutely vital to his artistic process, and has found the most efficient way to do so. In an economy and political atmosphere that often causes stress and discomfort at the idea of long trips abroad with limited funds, Fyfe has made this his mastery and discovered an artistic process that even our current questionable foreign relations can't squander. What makes his pieces so interesting is not only the painterly composition, or acquisition of materials, but how the pieces act within a space. Often dripping out of their own confines, Fyfe takes fabrics that could have domestic or market uses; ones that could be high end or lowbrow but together on a canvas are equal parts harmonious and clashing, much like the original uses of the materials. A scrap of dish towel from Indonesia can peacefully sit next to a South Korean billboard ad with nothing to discern where they come from or what their uses were, but show just how perfectly their textures and colors can come together.

Of course, no art can go without critique. Fyfes travels alone across the globe staying in low budget hostels is something that might only be accessible to someone like him, male. This factor does shift the perspective on how I viewed his work when I first saw it, and threw the harsh reality of being a woman in today's global social climate right back in my face. While I find Fyfes work to be unique and innovative, there is an unapproachability to it knowing that he never had the same guttural feeling of fear quite the same way a woman would (even walking down the street in a “safe” neighborhood). It disconnects the female artist when we realize that this is something we may never experience, and no matter how inspired we may be by his work, the idea of traveling across the globe alone on 100 dollars is something that is just not relatable and almost heartbreaking; for it shows that men still to this day have an upper hand when it comes to creating art.

-Anna S. King (10.13.17)

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Trip 4. Chelsea Galleries.

Trevor Paglens newest show “Sight Machine” is one that challenges the idea of photography in a traditional sense, while also having blatant commercial appeal, something that is considered blasé in the art world at times but is ultimately necessary for the markets. In an innovative, albeit underdeveloped new idea to incorporate Artificial Intelligence into photography, Paglen does what he is best known for, presenting to the viewer the dark underbelly of what affects our daily lives whether we realize it or not. His other work has been perceived as being “edgier” than this most recent one, as opposed to creating dreamscapes from forbidden government intelligence headquarters, Paglen instead navigates AIs to produce the work for him. By creating a new AI system, he communicates certain key words and images to the system and prints the distorted images they repeat back and forth to each other, creating a visual digital language that has never been seen before. The result are colorful and atmospheric images with an almost painterly quality, reminiscent of abstract expressionism, and while the outward aesthetic style is one that seems familiar to us, it is the process and innovation in technology that makes these prints so unique. This is just a stepping stool in the climb to integrate Artificial Intelligence into art, and because of this, there is room for this new technology and Paglens art to grow. There has been concern expressed by critics like Joseph Wolin that these most recent works do not shock the viewer the same way his previous work did, and they feel let down by the image quality; this assertion has left me surprised. For one, “tasteful living room art” is always going to appeal to potential collectors; it's unassuming facade is just welcoming and approachable to introduce a new group to the art world, and the familiarity of its shapes and colors combined with a unique backstory lets it stand alone as its own work while also having commercial mass appeal (lucky for Paglen). 

Trevor Paglen is by no means an artist who needs to build up his name or credentials, but this show is one that I believe will bring in a mass of viewers that perhaps could not resonate with his previous works; a younger generation who is still being introduced to the art world and might need an non-intimidating introduction. We are also at a time and place where technology has never been more ingrained in our society, but Artificial Intelligence is still the one medium we can not quite grasp and remains mostly a mystery to us. In recent news, Facebook had two “chatbots” that began to create their own language but was quickly shut down after this became apparent; Is Paglens ability to achieve AI communication not worth celebrating, or do we feel disappointed that the work created by artificial intelligence is aesthetically pleasing and not as menacing as we would have previously believed it could be? What I see in this show is the beginning of a new approach to not only art, but also our perception of AIs, and while it has not been fully developed yet, witnessing its evolution should be carefully monitored, recorded, and perhaps even encouraged.

-Anna King (9.29.17)

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Trip 3. The Whitney.

The Whitneys move to celebrate more than just North American art comes in at just the right time. In our current culture, we are becoming more and more conscientious of the space, people, and content that surrounds us, and as a perfect compliment to this idea, Hélio Oiticica’s To Organize Delirium immerses and attracts the viewer in a way most art can not...as literally as possible. By engaging all senses except for taste, there is no doubt that works such as Tropicália are incredibly overwhelming upon first interaction. A vast plot of sand in the middle of a fine art museum is the last thing most would expect, and in a world where “do not touch” is on just about every wall, being encouraged to wear handmade cloth tapestries and wander amongst hay and foam with bare feet feels equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. Oiticica’s “anti art” was a reaction to the political climate of his home country Brazil, and by playing with ideas of nostalgia, sensuality, and the link everyone shares with music and literature being ingrained in our understanding of culture since birth, it comes across equally as bold and revolutionary in today's political sphere. Sitting in a tent with children yelling, barefoot, and sand finding its way onto your clothing feels like The Whitneys worst nightmare if one were to propose this at another time, but under our current administration, this wild and abrasive work feels right at home, a reaction against a tyrannical government that shows art can not and will not be put under any constraints. 

Of course, if this is all too much for you there are other ways to appreciate and experience Oiticica’s work. Video installations combining the music of Jimi Hendrix as well as Brazilian musicians to images of lines of cocaine being cut shower the walls and ceiling, inviting the viewer to lay back in a daybed or hammock and experience off hand what Oiticica would have interacted with on a daily basis as a New York cocaine dealer with a taste for “sex and violence’ in the 1960s and 70s. This idea of relaxation tugs at the viewer and makes it almost difficult to fully embrace what is put in front of them, as we are conditioned never to get too comfortable in an art gallery and that lounging around is not showing our engagement or active participation and that we are “bad” or “uncultured” by wanting art to be presented in a more attractive or approachable manner. Here, we see counterculture becoming normalized by placing it in a museum with works by incredibly traditional artists like Fairfield Porter, and while this may repel or offend certain demographics, the acceptance of works like Oiticica’s is what is going to bring The Whitney into a new, more conscious sphere. In today's political environment, there is not enough room in major institutions for work that is not inherently political or reactionary, and by welcoming us into another era where revolution was on the forefront of everyone's minds, Hélio Oiticicas work withstands the test of time and comes full circle.

-Anna King (9.22.17)

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Trip 2. Dia Beacon

Our second Friday trip was to Storm King and Dia Beacon, two closely located iconic sculpture residences, but with completely different styles and functions. I found myself immediately attracted to the work at Dia: Beacon, specifically Robert Smithsons smaller earth work installations. A strange displaced pile of sand, with nothing but a plain and immaculately clean mirror jutting out of it is not one of Dia Beacons more breathtaking or grand pieces, but yet its attractiveness is instead based in its less abrasive distortion of unreality that the gallery is so well known for. When Robert Smithson comes to mind, one is usually flooded with images of his more magnificent pieces, such as Spiral Jetty, which to this day is a pioneer in the field of earth works. However these small samples of his usual work provides insight on what Robert Smithson thinks his work is all about; a beginners guide or condensed form of what an average Smithson piece is. From my understanding, Smithson's work in Dia Beacon was requested by the foundation as a way to display his pieces considering he is one of the more revolutionary contemporary artists of this tradition, and it would suit their brand to highlight his work, so when it came time to design pieces for the show, they had to encapsulate what Robert Smithson wanted his message to be across a wider range of audience, instead of the niche group that would be lucky enough to interact with his pieces out in large landscapes (if this is not the case, it is still important to note that these were the ones chosen by him and the Dia organization). His solution was to use mirrors, and engage the audience through their own reflections. Witnessing one's distorted reflection in the organic yet displaced pile of sand on the concrete floor makes the audience think of their place in nature, even in a confined space where it is not accessible; here we see Smithson doing what he does best which is engaging both nature and mankind and highlighting their interactions. The timelessness of the installation is also important to note, in that while works like Spiral Jetty are meant to decay with time and due to natural forces, works like Leaning Mirror cannot change without physical interaction (which this exhibition naturally forbids), but ones own self perception is instead what shifts. Also in his allotted space, works such as Gravel Mirrors with Cracks and Dust also plays with the viewer's perception in that they can only see the lower half of their body, as of they are witnessing their own figurative and literal “footprint”. This environmental concern, albeit more subtle than his usual work, is not only what makes these pieces fit in so well at Dia Beacon, but also are the perfect introduction to Smithson's work.

-Anna King (9.15.17)

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NYC Semester. Trip 1. The Met.

The Met Museum's sculpture garden on the already popular and attractive rooftop has been what some would call marketing genius. Having a glass of wine on a pleasant afternoon after a stroll through iconic displays of art is exactly what the modern museum goer wants, the quintessential cosmopolitan experience; however what is not brought up is how the art itself can suffer. When viewing Adrián Villar Rojas’ most recent exhibition, The Theatre of Disappearance on the Mets rooftop, one of the first impression the viewer has is not to be awe struck by the art, but the skyline instead. The magnificent Manhattan backdrop attracts tourists from all around the globe, bringing them to the perfect photo opportunity to sum up their New York experience, and while it may seem “cultured” to have a large scale and dramatic piece of art in the background, it is not the main focus of the inevitable photograph or the visitors lasting impression. Rojas’ requires careful consideration, a sculptural conglomeration of multiple famous works in the Mets collection, it is something unique and yet familiar at the same time. They are works that are meant to be analysed and compared after a day of in depth browsing, an almost interactive “hide and seek” event that engages viewers from all age groups, and yet their function, purpose, and message can be obscured by the function, frivolity, prestige, and the assumed luxury of visitation to the garden.

It is hard to understand where Rojas is drawing his inspiration from, although it might seem incredibly literal at first. While he is obviously attracted to classical and traditional forms across cultures in art history, it still leaves the viewer asking the question of “what does it all mean?” however, what Rojas excels in is showing his careful consideration in designing these pieces to integrate into the overwhelming New York landscape despite the issues previously mentioned. These towering structures at times manage to blend in with the skyline, and are functionally designed to interact and handle the natural weathering that is bound to happen. With dips and groove that collect water on the Ophelia-esque piece, the sculpture itself is activated as opposed to hindered when combined with natural elements. It seems as if the error in placement is the one of the viewer. While the works compliment the skyline and interrupt the viewer's path, they are also not what one expects when they visit the Met and border on kitsch, making them easy to overlook despite being glaringly obvious.

The death of what appears to be a native woman is one of the attractions that engages the skyline, and while it may be the perfect photo op at first, it makes the observant viewer do a double take upon the realization that New York's skyline is built upon the deaths of its own natives peoples. While this would have been a powerful statement in the right context, Rojas fails to make this seem intentional and rather appears as a happy accident. This can be said for the whole show. When one combines a multitude of images from a variety of cultures it is guaranteed to be visually interesting, but it lacks in anything more than this.

-Anna King (9.8.17)