Witty Whitney Biennial: An Appreciative Photo Essay

This rough-hewn, cluttered agglomeration is an “absurdist ecosystem,” (as the Whitney catalogue calls it), involving the wacky circulation among fish tanks of colorful fluids (Gatorade, I think, not the “soda” of the title). It climaxes in a cluster of daisies at the top. Washburn is quoted in the catalogue as saying that “my decision to collect and repurpose material was not born out of trying to make a statement at all.” Curators being curators, they opine in the catalogue that her work seems “to comment on the profusion and waste of consumer culture.”

I like Phoebe’s non-interpretation better. Here’s a close-up of the front side:

And, on the back, some improbably flowering bulbs nestled in a bed of yellow golf balls. No wonder she needed that window!

Here’s another elaborate, endearingly absurd system, with a wacky logic of its own—Mika Rottenberg‘s “Cheese,” with the artist herself front and center, reveling in the press attention:



Inside this barnlike structure are a series of video vignettes showing
longhaired sisters engaged in farming like you’ve never seen it
before—milking not only goats but also their own tresses, and performing strange agricultural cult rituals with the utmost concentration
and earnestness. I thought it was hilarious, although the label told me that I was supposed to see this as an exploration of larger societal issues, such as
labor and class inequities. It was so entertaining that it was
impossible to take that seriously.

And now for the beauty part—My photo does not do justice to Jedediah Caesar‘s luciously textured
and colorful amalgams of found objects encased in resin:

Jedediah Caesar, “Untitled (hollow box)”

Jedediah Caesar, “Helium Brick aka Summer Snow” (detail from a large wall piece)

A more fragile beauty—Mitzi Pederson‘s “Untitled (ten years later or maybe just one),” is a construction of cinderblocks trimmed with glitter, so precariously balanced that I could hardly get the guard far enough out of the way for me to take this picture:

I knew better than to try to get all those schmoozing art critics and journalists to step aside. Does anyone go to press previews to look at the art?

Also much talked about, as much for the process as the product, is Charles Long‘s contribution, embodying this Biennial’s predilection for works exploiting the “degraded sublime,” as the label put it. Here we have one of Long’s ghostly photos of the marks made by the droppings of blue herons on the cement embankment of the Los Angeles River:

The darker image to the left of the ghostly white one, above, is not part of the photograph, but the reflection on its glass of the sculpture in the gallery that was made in the shape of the photographed excrement. These attenuated Giacometti-like sculptures contain scavenged river sediment and debris, as well as plaster:

This most uncommercial of Whitney Biennials, with many scruffy works that would not rest easily in the in the mansions of megabucks buyers, will inevitably, nonetheless, have a market nexus. Galleries and the commercial art fairs opening in New York later this month (such as the Armory Show and Scope) will likely proffer examples by artists with newly minted stamps of Whitney approval. That’s why a wag (that “wag” being me) once dubbed it “the Whitney Buy-ennial.”

Veteran artist Mary Heilmann, given prominent, off-the-elevator placement at the Whitney, is also featured as one of two commissioned artists for the upcoming Armory Show. Here’s one of her Whitney-exhibited works:

Mary Heilmann, “Truckstop Trip (Lost Hills—Blackwell’s Corner)”

I mentioned on the radio that this Biennial differs from previous versions in that there’s not much in the way of shock art or the overtly political. A conspicuous exception is “Divine Violence” by Daniel Joseph Martinez, a roomful of plaques inscribed with the names of groups seeking political change through violence. Here’s a detail:

 
For a broader view of that room, which includes an excellent profile portrait of David Resnicow, president of the eponymous museum public relations firm, Resnicow Schroeder, see the image on above-linked Holland Cotter review. I’m sure David will be ordering a print.

During the limited time of the press preview, I could only flit among the videos, not take the time to do them justice. Cotter’s review indicates that the shock art or strong political statements to be found in this Biennial are largely confined to the screen. William Jones‘ display of police surveilance videos, showing homosexual encounters in public restrooms, is definitely not for children (as was apparent from the catalogue photos).

But for the best shock art in all New York, you must walk a few blocks north to the Metropolitan Museum’s marvelous Courbet exhibition, which is revealing in more ways than one:

Gustave Courbet, “The Origin of the World,” 1866, Musée d’Orsay, Paris