As the exhibitions of this summer’s feast for the senses come to a close, people all over the world are returning to their respective studios, homes, and offices to process the wealth of visual information acquired in 2007.
Between the 52nd Venice Biennale, the 12th Kassel Documenta, and the 10th Skulptur Projekte Munster, there is more than enough to process while waiting for the next round to begin again in two, five, and ten years time.
As this processing occurs, reviews are circulating. There has been a wide spectrum of reviews, from first-timers to connoisseurs alike.
Some of the shows have gotten nasty reviews (Documenta 12 has been called “Suckumenta”), but due to the rate at which these shows circulate, we all have to wait another ten years until this trio occurs in unison again. Is there nothing we can glean from the privilege of bouncing around Europe in the quest for creative stimuli?
Though it’s an embarrassing, contradictory, and disturbing sight to behold, does it not also paint an interesting portrait of the modern United States?
The Venice Biennale, directed by curator Robert Storr, celebrated its 52nd year this summer. Though there were exhibitions that left much to be desired, there were others that broke barriers.
For example, the representative of the French Pavilion, Sophie Calle, worked outside the Venice Biennale framework of a one-person show by using the space to highlight the work of many. The collab produced the exhibition “Take Care of Yourself,” in which a multi-lingual constellation of voices was culled to creatively (and publicly) console Calle over the break-up with a lover.
In her intimate, anecdotal style that is often criticized for its self-absorptive qualities, Calle (work shown above and left) extended her position in the spotlight to include the work of 107 other female professionals who were to interpret the break-up letter (in this case it was a break-up e-mail) in whatever way they chose.
The backgrounds had a dramatic range; their professions ranged from “translator in SMS language,” “etiquette consultant,” and “police captain,” to other artists, writers, and musicians (Feist being of them). Though some point out that the content was still “all about her,” it is hard to forego the generative opportunity this exhibition offered.
And there was the United States Pavilion, where Felix Gonzalez-Torres was chosen to represent the US post-mortem. It was one of the more interesting, confusing, embarrassing, controversial, and contradictory exhibitions at this Biennale.
Featuring his Stacks and Candy sculptures, his works are partly determined by their production and disappearance; that is, the viewer is able to take pieces of his sculptures (stacks of posters and piles of candy) outside the gallery as free art objects, only to return the next day to see each sculpture replenished in full.
Those who are familiar with the themes in Gonzalez-Torres’ work recall that his candy and posters, intended to be taken away piece by piece, are always represented by a body weight; each piece taken and consumed is meant as a metaphor for death, disappearance, loss, and transformation. For those unfamiliar with these themes, his work is simply an unlimited supply of free art and free candy.
Despite the span of interpretation, however, knowledgeable and first-time visitors alike entered the US Pavilion empty-handed, and exited with armfuls of rolled-up posters and pockets stuffed with candy. Greed got the better of most, and this was evident when posters began to accumulate as litter, strewn onto walkways (shown left), sometimes into trash bins, and generally discarded at will.
As the metaphor for death and transformation was being trampled, so was responsible consumerism, as the myth of an endless supply of resources prevailed. Though it’s an embarrassing, contradictory, and disturbing sight to behold, does it not also paint an interesting portrait of the modern United States?