Mostly art stuff. Occasional jetsam.
Your intrepid blogger,
Perry Garvin
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Between 1996 and 2005, Maria Eichhorn conducted interviews with artists, gallery owners and others–including Carl Andre, Michael Asher, Paula Cooper, Hans Haacke, Jenny Holzer, Adrian Piper, Robert Ryman, John Weber, Lawrence Weiner and Jackie Winsor–about sales of artworks, speculation, the role of collectors and museums and artists’ rights.
“We will stay together for one year and never be alone. We will be in the same room at the same time, when we are inside. We will be tied together at the waist with an 8 foot rope. We will never touch each other during the year.” Artist Tehching Hsieh performed this piece with Linda Montano for the work Art/Life One Year Performance 1983-1984.
Other one-year performances included him living outside for a year, living in solitary confinement, and – one of my favorites – living without making, referring to, or talking about art. All for durations of one year. All with statements announcing his intentions.
Adam Hayes, an artist from Newark, NJ (remember when it was the new Brooklyn?) is having a show at the gallery Number 35 in Manhattan.
Sadly I can’t dig up much information (make a website for yourself, sir) but the press release suggests his drawings “feature a moment: hair blowing, the space between drapery, a shadow of a neck. They turn in images of incomplete sashes and quick snapshots of fur collars.” Could be. I like their spareness and the way they appear to be in formation. Proto pictures, maybe. More on Adam via his gallery’s badly designed site.
Francesco Longenecker, Bed, 2008, oil on canvas, 60" x 80"
Francesco Longenecker, Landing, 2008, oil on canvas, 60" x 96"
Francesco Longenecker, Pond, 2008, oil on canvas, 48” x 58”
Francesco Longenecker is a young painter (b. 1981) in New York with a promising show of new paintings at Rare Gallery. Here are some selections. More here.
John Milton Ensor Parker is a painter working out of Brooklyn. After investigating his very thorough (and well designed) website, I was only really taken with these pictures (above).
Regular readers will know I’m simply mad about painter Kristine Moran. Here’s a painting she made on view at a group show she is in at Anna Kustera Gallery. Terrific, terrific.
Pablo Picasso. Portrait of Kahnweiler. 1910. Oil on canvas. Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA.
The history of art shouldn’t take such an artist-focused perspective.
While it makes constructing a historical narrative easier (the “Great Man” theory of history), it overlooks the importance of the artist’s vast retinue of supporters that made his/her achievements even possible.
For nearly every “important” artist there has been the supportive gallerist (Daniel Kahnweiler, Virginia Dwan, Betty Parsons, Leo Castelli), the adoring critic (Clement Greenberg, Kahnweiler (again, wily devil!)), and the wealthy patron (Stein, Saatchi, Broad). Most importantly there has been the marketplace of ideas and money that deemed the artist’s work valuable – culturally and financially (granted it’s a small marketplace made up mostly of wealthy aethetes and intellectuals but it’s a market nonetheless).
Certainly art history does not completely overlook these factors but it does devalue their importance compared to artists’ biographies, output, and ideas.
I would propose a history of art that focuses less on the artists but on the gallerists, critics, patrons, and markets that enabled the rise of “important artists.” A history of art that attempted to explain WHY the marketplace of ideas was READY to value certain artists at certain times.
While we’re on this subject look at this article about the role artist’s wives play in their husband’s success. If you want a case study in devotion look to Barnett Newman’s wife who worked TWO JOBS for decades to support her husband while he painted, cavorted about town, and … that’s right … didn’t work. He left a legacy, sure. Her? Nothing.
Richard Diebenkorn, "Ocean Park No. 129", 1984
And while we’re on Diebenkorn, for those living in Northern California, be sure to check out a little show of his work at Stanford.
a scribble M’s doing, originally uploaded by herm007.
Nice Sol LeWitt wall drawing cooking along at MASS MoCA for their upcoming retrospective of Sol LeWitt wall drawings.
Why oh why is this “art” news? Looks like the media still gets a cheap thrill out of tsk-tsking a sexually controversial woman. Sigh.
Some fine landscapes by Peter Allen Hoffmann over at Freight and Volume. Lots more pictures here. Press release here.
“Second Stage” is a music show from National Public Radio with a mission that differs from its manifold peers: it only plays musicians not signed to record labels. Producer Robin Hilton scours CDs sent from musicians all around the country and podcasts a few selected tracks each day. It’s a rare opportunity to listen to “great unknowns.”
Imagine the same thing happening in New York contemporary art museums. What if the Whitney, MoMA, P.S.1, or SculptureCenter did something similar to Second Stage and put on shows by living artists not already represented by a gallery. Not only would it be surprising, it would be shocking.
Chances are very high that all of the artists you see included in exhibitions of “emerging art” have professional gallery representation. There are exceptions, of course. But they pale in comparison to the dominant trend of showing artists with preexisting gallery affiliation.
So why is this?
I am not so cynical as to think that this is motivated out of any payola conspiracy. I won’t take the stance that curators are succumbing to payoffs of some form (although the temptation is certainly there) because I believe that most are honestly seeking to present the art that they like to the public in the hope of informing cultural narratives. And while I acknowledge that there are more galleries than ever before, there are also more unrepresented artists than ever before.
What I believe what accounts for the gallery-ization of emerging art programs at contemporary art museums are three things far more banal and, therefore, insidious: convenience, ease, and safety.
A gallery provides “one stop shopping” for a curator, complete with a roster of artists, a range of works for easy perusal, complete background information on the artists, and a whole staff dedicated to easing the bureaucratic burden of assembling a show. Galleries also mitigate risk, assembling collectors and reviews that make potential criticism easier to bear.
CONVENIENCE
It’s hard to find good art. With so much art out there and so little time, you as a curator will need to see as much as you can in the little time that you’ve got. So why beat the streets and the hassle of traveling from studio to studio on the off chance of seeing something great when you can simply go to the galleries and see so much more work in a far more comfortable context. No awkward talks with artists whom you’re not sure you’re into. No annoying follow-up conversations or calls. Just efficient examination. Get your list. Then do the visits. The tradeoff? You are ceding all the important work of discovering totally fresh, new artists to the gallerist who’s already done the scouting. And you’re doing artists without a gallery a disservice by forcing them through the arbitrary filter of representation. Just because they don’t have marketing muscle doesn’t mean they don’t have talent.
EASE
Putting together a show is hard. You’ve selected your pieces but now you’ve got to get them. And insure them. And then get images of the works. And captions. And credits. And then they have to be shipped. And then installed. And then shipped back. Curating is 20% brainwork and 80% grunt work. If you’re lucky you’ve got a curatorial assistant to do the heavy lifting. Regardless, it’s good for someone to help you out. And that’s, again, where the gallery comes in. Getting an artist into a museum is a big deal. It will increase the visibility of the artist and the gallery and can make a major impact on the gallery’s bottom line. Because it’s in their best interest, (most) galleries will be extraordinarily helpful in making your exhibiting of their artists as easy as possible by providing much of this aforementioned content. When you consider having to do this yourself or interfacing with a possibly disorganized artist more skilled in being creative than in being efficient, there’s another major incentive to go through the gallery system.
SAFETY
Criticism is hard. You’ve worked for months on your show and you unveil your choice to the critical eye of the press, the public, and your peers. If you get a good review – brilliant. No problem. But if you get a bad review, then what? Well, you can always play the “this-artist-is-ahead-of-his/her-time-and-the-avant-garde-is-always-offensive” card, but generally people want to be liked. The possible criticism of showing an artist with representation is a lot easier to bear knowing that somebody else also thinks this artist is good. Enter the gallery. The gallerist believes the artist is good. The artist’s collectors believe the artist is good. And since the gallery almost always has past good reviews of the artist, there’s proof that other critics also believe the artist is good. Simply put, a gallery makes it so that a curator doesn’t have to go out on a limb. Or if they are going out on a limb, it’s a much thicker branch – strengthened by a built-in group of admirers supplied by the gallery.
With the obvious benefits that galleries offer, it’s hard for a curator to go anywhere else. But just because it’s harder doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be done.
Convenience, ease, and safety breed laziness and curatorial laziness is rife right now among contemporary curators. The cost of this is not just to the artists omitted but also to the reputations of the curators themselves. At best they appear as cowards without strength of vision or an eye to the truly new. At the worst they sacrifice their integrity to the lure of market acclaim.
Buffalo, New York used to be a boom town. The Erie Canal opened in 1825 connecting the Great Lakes to the Atlantic and Buffalo was one of its biggest beneficiaries. Home to steel plants, grain mills, and railroad intersections, wealth boomed. In 1900 it was the 8th largest city in the country.
Now it’s 46th.
The St. Lawrence Seaway was one of the precipitating factors causing ships to be rerouted and, consequently, the shuttering of the same plants and mills that led to Buffalo’s rise. Populations are now at 50% of their peak in the 1950s. And against this backdrop of economic fortunes made and ruins cast the grand constant: Niagara Falls. The sublime incarnate ably showcased to the world in Frederic Edwin Church’s Hudson River School painting “Niagara” of 1857. But where this painting once proudly expressed America’s natural assets (and, by proxy, America’s potential), Alec Soth’s “Niagara,” a series of photographs from the region, presents an alternative view.
A territory in limbo. A region marked by isolation. An assortment of people seeking connection to themselves, one another, to the land. But efforts seem suffocated by the oppressive history of economic collapse and the weight of impending or existent poverty.
As with most of Soth’s pictures there’s loads of mystery: naked people uncomfortably lounging on the floor of a motel (what are they doing?), two towels sculpted into swans touching beaks (who made them?), an unidentifiable explosive stain on concrete (what is it?).
It’s a wan view.
Magnum’s production team has done an outstanding job presenting a slideshow of Soth’s work from the series along with commentary by the artist. More at Alec Soth’s website.
Dear emerging artist who wants to get seen,
The good news is that you are living in an era where anyone can be an artist and make work that is culturally viable. The bad news is that because of this there are an unprecedented number of artists and a tidal wave of artworks.
So what do you do to get seen?
Dirty secret: there’s no such thing as “good art” or “bad art.” Context is king. Today’s good is yesterday’s bad and vice versa. So throw out any insecurity about whether you are “good enough.” Those seeking acclaim will network the hell out of themselves to the tastemaking curators, critics, and bloggers that matter. The more modest will simply want to show off what they do in the hopes of piquing another human’s interest. No matter which path you choose (and you can do a blend – blends are good) – here’s what you need at bare minimum: easy access to the art that you produce.
1) Get a website. If you don’t have one you are instantly marginalizing yourself. Seriously. I don’t care if it’s a custom site or on Flickr. Get an online venue, put up your work, and keep it updated.
2) Write an artist’s statement. Is it hard? Good – it will only help you articulate your ideas. If there’s one dominant trend in the past 30 years it’s the increasing importance of artists able to master the written word. Judd, LeWitt, Kosuth, Morris, Smithson, etc. etc. were all masters of contextualizing their work for the public in essay after essay. And since it’s quite likely that the art you make is conceptual, it’s preposterous to think that your work can explain itself in simply visual terms. Write a short, clear, jargon-free artist statement and make it accessible to the public. Will it change? Of course. So update it. And I’m serious about the jargon-free. None of this kind of art writing, please.
3) Stay in touch with people who like what you make. If someone expresses interest in your work – from a grocer to a gallerist – do everything in your power to keep that person updated about what’s coming next. I’m shocked at how many artists have a lovely website but no place for me to subscribe to a newsletter to keep apprised of future work, showings, etc. I will forget you unless you stay in touch with me. Collect email addresses and email them three times a year updating them on what you’re up to. If you want to get fancy provide an RSS feed and a blog. But since most people don’t know what RSS is and, therefore, forget about the blogs they like, email is still the king of digital communication.
These are the basics. There are more. They will be forthcoming on the Plog.
Post image: Tony Silder-Delerive, Havenhurst Hollywood, acrylic on canvas, 52″ x 60″.
