Not a review: Michael Rakowitz at the Jane Lombard Gallery

Michael Rakowitz is showing work at the Jane Lombard Gallery in an exhibition entitled:

Detail of work at the top

THE INVISIBLE ENEMY SHOULD NOT EXIST  (ROOM F, SECTION 1, NORTHWEST PALACE OF NIMRUD).

He has recreated his versions of those particular works that have been destroyed by ISIS at Nimrud. Above is an example, the bright colors coming from wrappings with arabic branding on them. The relationship between the destruction of the art and the wrappings is unclear. ISIS can not be accused of promoting consumerism, they don't promote anything but nihilism, the only relationship seems to be that the wrappings are Arabic. ISIS has been able to establish itself in Iraq following the chaos left by the American invasion. This military action was justified as a response to Saddam Hussein's "weapons of mass destruction". It appeared later that there were no such weapons and that US intelligence had no convincing evidence that they ever existed, and that the motivation was purely to access petrol.

In that sense, the destruction of these world heirlooms can be imputed to the interference of the US in the region. The same could be said of the destruction of art such as the Buddha statues by the Taliban, as the US armed the mujahhideen when the enemy was the USSR. We had no idea when the Taliban blew these statues that one day the Taliban would seem rather mild and self disciplined in comparison to ISIS. Ironically, the Assyrian civilization was one of brutal militarism.

Organisations such as the Taliban and ISIS would not waste their time and dynamite blowing ancient monuments if they did not purpose to antagonize the West. One can feel quite helpless if this iconoclasm is only attributed to fundamentalism. But if these actions are, correctly, imputed to Western inference in the Middle East, we can exercise our political rights to prevent this kind of short sightedness in the case of the Taliban, and self serving politics in the case of Iraq. Imagine a foreign power (no names here, as I prefer my coffee non radioactive) poured funds into survivalist groups in the US, we would soon have a number of Timothy McVeigh empowered to blow up more buildings with babies. 

The ancient Assyrian reliefs that were acquired in various ways by institutions in the Western World were saved from destruction by ISIS, necessarily. The show seems to be an indictment of the movement pressuring these institutions to return the work to their originating countries. Also the stunning beauty of the original reliefs contrasts jarringly with the current branded look, providing added motivation the original work not be destroyed (See beautiful original on the left). At least, that's how I perceived it, which was somewhat puzzling. I'm quite ready to believe that Rakowitz had good intentions, I wish they had been clearer.

Caption accompanying the work above at the gallery

Written and published by  - -  Arabella von Arx

Not a review: Wheeler at Zwirner

The title states that this is not a review, in the sense that I try to communicate my personal experience of a gallery event in Chelsea rather than discussing the work which I will let speak for itself.

I have a problem with a panel with 3 white guys even if one has a charming Italian accent, I know I'm being dogmatic, but it does feel terribly déjà vu. I was incapable of listening to anything Germano Celant said, maybe it's his accent, and he is likely to have said some very interesting things, he is the guy who coined the term "Arte povera" and who heads the Prada Foundation in Milano - maybe he is better with the written word. He does have a most charming name too, a whole story could be imagined around that name!

Doug Wheeler was more arresting. He stuck me as being the interesting case of a man who was shy to start with in life. Had he chosen another path, he would have had to overcome it. But he has become a famous artist, and  this allows for every idiosyncrasy of the personality. The artist is sold "as is" :with the understanding he is not able, nor expected to conform, and his failings are his qualities as they are linked to his creativity.

Wheeler, 81, has a handsome mane of long white hair. Its always a fun exercise to imagine a man with his long hair trimmed short. And I thought, imagine, imagine this doctor's son had had a career in a corporation. Or had started his own business of medical supplies. He might have had to beat the shyness out of his system, as is expected of what one calls a real man, of a breadwinner. And I can see his face shorn of hair, he would have had to compact into something showing power and control his spread out sitting position that is a self conscious attempt at appearing relaxed, and why not, It is a very different person yet the divergence in these paths might have been caused by something seemingly benign, like a bit of bullying by a cousin or an over demanding father.

My impression is that Wheeler knows the show business. He's been there for a while now. He probably doesn't really like it but it's the ransom of celebrity, and he'll play along, which is fair enough. He tells his stories, gamely. Does he tell these stories repeatedly? You would think, from their content's relationship to his artistic path, but if he has told them before, it's not obvious from the fresh, convincing delivery he achieves. He's a good story teller. He recalls his father the surgeon flying his small plane to remote areas in Arizona. Scary landings on high streets when there was no runway. His father would say: see that patch of the sky over there that's particularly blue? Don't go there. They're turbulences. John Wayne! In fact, minimalism has something macho about it. For a start, there is a certain arrogance in asserting that a very simple piece is a worthy art work just because the artist says so. Nothing soft or intricate or empathic about minimalism or conceptual art, these qualities typically needing figurative art or complex abstraction.

He tells of his father letting him fly the plane. Of the  landscapes seen from above, of the different

experience of the world. Of wanting to communicate his sensory experience of the world to others. 

He speaks simply, he is humble, he often seeks the gaze of his wife in the audience, the Hollywood producer Bridget Johnson, and mentions her by name. He also refers to another man in the audience by name, maybe to break the mythology of the famous artist on stage addressing the anonymous reverential audience, which is sympathique.

But still he is there, and he speaks, filling his expected role. The Zwirner son, Lucas, moderates. He's the picture of the young golden boy, well to do, confident, educated, handsome. WASP. Does he know suffering? I guess everyone suffers at some point. It's not a criticism of Lucas. It's a genuine question. The people  I know personally that have been born into exceptional privilege do not strike me as happier than the average Josephine (the average woman informed me she prefers Josephine to Jane).

At the end of the show, people take selfies in the Infinity Room.

And this ... is definitely not a review.

Written and contributed - reluctantly - by  - -  Arabella von Arx

Country Pavilions show propaganda at Venice Biennale 2019

These are impressions. Not an essay, not even an article. For the reader planning on going to the Biennale. For the reader who has been to the Biennale, and those who are planning not to go to the Biennale.

Starting by the pavilions is not a good idea for people sensitive to any hint of propaganda. The Venezuelan pavilion which actually exhibited some interesting art made no mystery of its intention (see its claim to being a peaceful nation in a time of absolute corruption and crime), unless it was supposed to be sarcasm which would be screamingly funny, I admit.

Natali Rocha, De Tripas Corazón

The Russian pavilion exposes a crowd pleasing installation of decors and automates inspired by famous works owned by the Hermitage. Come to Leningrad! Sorry, - come to St Petersburg, visit our beautiful Museum endowed with pieces by the Tsars before all that unpleasant communist business happened, make Russia great again. In fact, the exhibit refers to The Return of The Prodigal Son, by Rembrandt. There is a video with some war stuff. We could read it as a criticism to Putin’s war on poor Ukraine. Or as support to same.

In the US pavilion, Martin Puryear comments on being American: subverted hunting trophies, the eagle, the tired myth of the pioneer. Isn’t that another form of propaganda even if the artist is well intentioned? See how democratic we are, we let our artists criticize our identity? The pavilion might be allowing free expression, but this is a facade for a country that has legalized torture and that tramples human rights when it comes to what is termed “illegal immigrants” who are generally people indigenous to the continent.

Liberty, by Martin Puryear

American Pavilion, Venice Biennale 2019

The Ghana Pavilion boasts the great Maestro El Anutsai, stunning self portraits from the 60s by Felicia Abban, and ... Yiadom-Boakye whose top selling work does not exactly express her African roots.

A 112 min film at the Canada pavilion. Maybe I had not slept enough, or was feeling more and more cynical, but the day in the life of an indigenous man, an interesting concept, failed to convince me. Old men obviously suffering from substance abuse hang around the icepack pretending to hold strong to their traditions for the filmmaker’s sake. At one point, two young indigenous girls speak coyly on camera about boys. As if they would. When we know what the sexual reality is for these girls, one of the highest rape rates.

The pavilions push against each other to grab the attention of the visitor: watch our video! Read our long texts! As if the longer the visitor stays, the more success for the pavilion.

All this lead me to extract the following formula:

art x propaganda = propaganda

Which would mean propaganda has similar properties to zero. Works with other variables:

Writing x propaganda = propaganda

Gardening x propaganda = propaganda

Filmmaking x propaganda = propaganda

Hair cut x propaganda = propaganda

What does it mean to have countries show off art, artists in a pavilion? It’s a remnant of a time when countries had pavilions at World Fairs, promoting their national products and colonies. “A major study by Tjaco Walvis called "Expo 2000 Hanover in Numbers" showed that improving national image was the main goal for 73% of the countries participating in Expo 2000. Pavilions became a kind of advertising campaign, and the Expo served as a vehicle for "nation branding".”

The pavilions might show work similar to the Biennale's exhibit but they turn the art into propaganda as it contributes to promoting their image.
To foster the Biennale’s integrity, it’s high time to transform the pavilions into a different form, a difficult, costly decisions as the pavilions, these crowd pleasers funded by individual countries are a boon for the Biennale. The pavilions could have different subsections that could change each edition: social issues one year such as immigration, refugees, gentrification, water access, etc. And another year show art by creators that are underrepresented: outsiders, traditional woman craft, art by children, etc.

I was certainly gripped by the video installation of the Australian pavilion. Which strikes me as a country which is genuinely taking a stab (is that really the expression? So difficult to stay away from violent wording) at democracy.  The videos take place in an imaginary building. Images of people playing music, of meeting places, build a three dimensional space where change and exchanges can happen. Much needed utopia.

Angelica Mesiti, Assembly

The German pavilion felt like a meditative relief with its rocks, its simple installation, its offer for people to sit and stop. A dam, exuding the power of an Egyptian temple, will hold the deluge for how long?

An animated fresco at the Chinese Pavilion:

In the Austrian pavilion, I was delighted to find Renate Bertlmann, an old favorite of mine.

The Danish pavilion exhibited an artist of Palestinian origins Larissa Sansour, a smart move to skirt nationalism. In one room, a huge black globe pushes the limits of the walls. Close up, the black as it absorbs all light, eschewing any shadowing, the globe looks flat, like a disk. Optical illusion. Just as on a daily basis we aren’t aware we tread a globe. But if we take the time to stop and think, we know it’s a globe, and it’s in serious danger.

“May you live in interesting times” is the theme of the 2019 Biennale. It is apparently a curse that a wise man in China threw to an enemy, but its origins are unclear. I wonder what is the literal meaning of the ancient Chinese word, “interesting” seems such a modern concept. It was in fact denounced by Susan Sontag as being linked to capitalism.

The exhibit A, in the Arsenale, makes for a consistent experience. The artists chosen, the work presented, the actual exhibition of the pieces in terms of sequence and placement, form an expressive ensemble. Some artists’ pieces are all gathered in one space, others are sprinkled through the buildings.

A lot of the work feels genuine. That skirted the common case at Art Fairs of walking into through the exhibit and feeling like the works are all screaming as loud as possible for attention: look at meeee!!! Buy meeee!!

There are lots of films. Good films. But feels like a punishment to be stuck inside dark rooms when it’s so beautiful out. Like a physical version of the Internet with its motto: use videos, not still images, not words, to grab attention. Here's a film using big data and scientific data to make a rhythmical symphony of images.

A lot of dried plants, weeds, seaweeds. Indeed our poor oceans know “interesting times”.

Some exhibits are smelly. Nice to have an additional sense stimulated.

A piece with interviews by Skype of soldiers of various armies: most compelling, the constant, the differences, and the sad fact that there are soldiers and there are armies, and as long as we have these, there will be wars.

Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster takes us on a virtual tour in a beautiful universe where we float or fly. Bubbles come by. Shapes arise out of nothing, stun us with their shifting form, their bright colors, it’s a creation story.

The gut wrenching photos of Soham Gupta, taken in the slums of Calcutta. Humanity reduced to its common denominators pushed to extremes - hunger, love, disease, fear-, the images stab us out of our comfort. A baby looks too big for his mother's body. 

Elegant installation with tartan from Anthea Hamilton:

A piece of the Biennale's heart:

This piece by Liu Wei, Microworld 2018, refers to the molecular but has the size of the macroscopic for our appreciation, with its beautiful shapes and colors. Spectacular, while managing to retain modesty, as it typical of this edition of the Biennale, with its new curator Ralph Rugoff.

Liu Wei, Microworld

Questioning what it means to be "Asian" in our modern world, buddhist lama Khyentse Norbu presents options:

It's good to run into old friends. Painting, a trend making a coming back in the current art world, is well represented, here by Julie Mehretu.

The Biennale also takes place in spaces outside its geography.

Ibis, by artist Mother Nature, found a lot of admirers.

Finally, the wide diversity in terms of origins is welcome though still a lot of Americans and Europeans, but a disappointing number of women artists. Was parity not aimed for?!

Written and published by  - -  Arabella von Arx

Sculptures at the Italian Pavilion

I PAID $20 TO BE AN EXTRA IN AN EXPERIMENTAL VIDEO

Sounds like a rip off? The Performa program stated "Audiences are invited to embark on a bus tour around Red Hook harbor in Brooklyn led by Philippe Quesne, who uses his position as tour guide to encourage the group to shift their attention to the poetic or strange elements in the landscape ... the group is invited to take part in a series of tableaux vivants orchestrated by the artist". Quite an intriguing program for which I was happy to fork out $20.

There is always an unspoken deal struck between the people responsible for the show and the audience. The audience expects to marvel, to feel, to be entertained, amused, intrigued by what goes on on stage, and in exchange they pay a ticket price and give their attention and some amount of praise usually in the form of hand clapping.

At Performa, we as an audience come ready to experience a different deal, as promised by Philippe Quesne's promoted "tableaux vivants". We were ready to be asked to do more than clap our hands: interact with the landscape or with the other spectators of with the performers.

We embarked on a coach bus that drove to Red Hook in the sunset. A
video of a mole constructing a wall with a narrow entrance was playing on the bus monitor. A good start. The bus was full, everyone was excited. It was downhill from there. Philipe Quesne made clear once we had signed a release form that we were to act as extras in his production.  The bus stopped near the water. The director gave us instructions: walk to the fence at a regular pace then back to the bus. You can take pictures. We did. We were filmed.

At the second and final stop an alluring mole, or a performer in an alluring mole costume crossed the road in front of the bus, which then followed the performer, in spite of the fact that the driver, probably from NJ, looked deeply aggravated by the whole thing. A large door to an old industrial loft opened slowly. Lots of  carbon dioxide smoke came through an opening in a wall which seemed narrow, but was large enough, just about, to let the bus through. Intriguing. Then we got off the bus and the director gave us more instructions: we were to form a group between the bus and the car, which was parked with its lights on. He said we would later move toward the back where we would discover the "concept".

I thought maybe the concept was that we were offered the chance to disobey his directives, which I did, but that didn't seem to be the intention. A beautiful blond woman dressed in fetching clothes played the thimerin. It was striking, but I couldn't enjoy it because I wasn't listening to the music, I was playing someone listening to music.


A whisper got around: t"hey're offering whiskey at the front near the bus". I rushed back hoping to get some return on my $20, which I did, whiskey in a glass made out of glass. About half of the audience of 60 was also enjoying drinks around me. We couldn't see the other half of the audience, still listening to music, because of the fog. A cry was heard above our heads: 'Action!". Everyone went quiet. Then out of the smoke emerged the other group, marching toward us with the musician and the mole at the front. What were they going to do to us? The moment carried a lot of potential for drama. But nothing happened, they joined us and the whole thing was over. Some people clapped, before we were driven back to the original spot. At a nearby pizza place, a number of spectators went for nourishment. When I asked, most of them thought the experience had been cool. But a group of four people, who looked different from the rest of the hipsters in their 30s, echoed my complaint: "Not only did we pay to be extras, but it wasn't even a good film".

Published by  - -  Arabella Hutter