Wednesday, September 21, 2011

"The World Belongs to You" at the Palazzo Grassi, Venice

On view at the Palazzo GrassiThe World Belongs to You, is an excellent group exhibition of contemporary art from across the globe. The international scope is notable, with forty artists from six continents, fitting the spirit of the concurrent Venice Biennale. 

There is a lot of good work and many great artists in this exhibition, making it difficult to choose what to focus on here. I admired maps of Alighiero e Boetti and I enjoyed photographs by Sergey Bratkov and Boris Mikhailov. I was alternately intrigued and disturbed by Nicholas Hlobo's stitched sculpture and I am always impressed by El Anatsui's fabric-like draperies made of bottle neck wrappers. And of course there was work by the ubiquitous Jeff Koons and Takashi Murakami. 

Below I've given extra attention to some things I especially liked.

Upon entry into the museum's atrium the viewer finds Portuguese artist Joana Vasconcelos' Contamination, a creature-like plush sculpture of staggering proportion. A seemingly organic form with many protruding bulbous, pointy, and tubular shapes sprawls out upon the floorFrom the floor a central axis grows up to the building's second level. Sprouting from the main trunk are tentacle-like limbs that have climbed across the floor, up the stairs, and around the balconies. The title Contamination proposes the invasion of an unwanted presence. The soft construction weaves and roams and takes over in a way similar to kudzu. It is pervasive, yet this massive growth is extremely inviting and cheerful. The title suggests something ominous and it is eerie how the crocheted, knitted, and stitched mass weaves its way through the museum. However the majority of surface area is joyously decorated, with diverse shapes, bright colors, variegated patterns, textured fabrics, and applique details, all creating whimsey, as opposed to impending doom. 

Joana Vasconcelos, Contamination







































Vasconcelos has chosen to work in a medium that has often been relegated to the realm of craft, a 'minor art' traditionally practiced by women. However, there is nothing minor about this work. The scope is incredible and the ingenuity and detail is fascinating. By stitching and sewing this massive sculpture she has reminded us of the high level of respect that craftsmanship deserves. 

I also found the Ivorian artist Frédéric Bruly Bouabré interesting. I could not help but be drawn to a collection of simple and colorful drawings, called Voitures Partout, (Cars Everywhere). On a considerable portion wall space there is an installation of individually framed drawings, all of little cars driving in various directions. Each drawing is approximately 4 x 6 inches, done in ball-point pen and crayon. They all have a border with a textual explanation of what is happening. The only real difference between the drawings is that the cars of each composition are decorated with the colors of different flags. Voitures Partout was inspired by the many traffic jams that occur in the city of Abidjan, Cote d'Ivoire.


from Cars Everywhere
"Cars Cars Everywhere: A Traffic Jam Right in the Heart of Rome or The Exposure of the Rich"

Frédéric Bruly Bouabré was born in 1923 in Zéprégüuhé on the Ivory Coast and belongs to the tribe of the Bété.  He was one of the first Ivorians to receive a French colonial education, learning to read and write in a catholic school. He was one of the first of his generation to be exposed to written language. One project of his was to create a visual language for the Bété. He formulated an alphabet with 440 monosyllabic ideograms. He says that his art began as a vision in March of 1948, where he saw seven suns orbiting round the known sun. Since then he has called himself a searcher who records his observations in books and drawings. 
He always made drawings for himself and for his tribe, until 1989 when his work was included in the exhibition, ´Magiciens de la terre´ (Magicians of the Earth), at the Centre Pompidou in Paris. Since then he has become quite a presence in contemporary art. 
You can see more of his work here.
















Another favorite is Maurizio Cattelan's In Bed with Lorca, a double self portrait of the artist side by side with himself in a neatly made wooden-framed bed. It is a hyper realistist sculpture just a fraction smaller than life size. The diminution makes the subject humorous and curious, but there is also a morbidity, as the suited men look like they are at their own wake. 





















I was interested and delighted by the sculpture without knowing anything about it, but after reading the text I came to find out there was something happening on another level. This is an artwork referring to an artwork, referring to an artist. Cattelan's work is a reference to a photograph by the British duo Gilbert and George. In 2007 a photograph by Gilbert and George was included in Everstill, an exhibition celebrating the Spanish poet Federico García Lorca. In their photograph the tweed suited pair are seen lying side by side on the poet's narrow wooden framed bed. Gilbert and George's In Bed with Lorca is a nod to García Lorca’s homosexuality, something he never publicly acknowledged. In Cattelan's version, he continues this reference to include himself. All of the men have deadpan expressions and one feels the same witty, snide, and almost silly sense of humor. 
























Lastly, I have to mention the work of Charles Ray. He carves meticulous reliefs and makes hyper realistic sculptures of people. In Family Romance he realistically depicts each member of the nuclear family in complete detail, but uses scale and proportion to alter the sense of reality. 

Two Boys looks like a snap shot photograph of two smiling adolescent boys. It is an obviously sweet and heart warming image, but Ray has made it ghostly and distant. This portrait is warm and engaging, yet unsettling. It is oversized, colorless, and the boys are conspicuously missing the pupils of their eyes.    The happy, impressionable young subjects look out from hollow eyes, amused and content in their position as silent spectators. 


Monday, September 5, 2011

Venice Biennale 2011

Hello again after a (much too) long time away. I was lucky enough to spend my summer in Italy. Seven fabulous weeks. Everything is beautiful, the food and wine are delicious, the history is rich and long and, best of all, there is so much spectacular art!  I wanted to keep up with the blog, but I just wasn't able to find the time, but now that I am back, I want to at least post a few pictures and comments here on the Venice Bienniale, so here goes.

There are two main exhibition sites for the Biennale, where visitors pay for tickets and are inundated with hours worth of art viewing. These are the Giardini and the Arsenale, both in Venice's eastern Castello district. The Giardini, the word itself meaning gardens or park, is a lush environment with permanent pavilions scattered about the grounds. The permanent pavilions are testament to the site's long history as host to one of the artworld's preeminent exhibition events. The Giardini hosts thirty nations, from Australia to Venezuela. The Giardini is also the location for the Bienniale's Central Pavilion, a very large, curated collection of work by individual artists, around this year's theme, Illumination
Giardini, approaching the Central Pavilion













The Arsenale is a vast sprawl of former ship building facilities converted into exhibition space. The fortifications of stone and brick are still in various states of disrepair. These buildings are dilapidated remnants of Venetian naval power. It is an eerie place that somehow proves to be an apt exhibition space for contemporary art. The ghosts of Venetian fleets still linger in the immense spaces and though water is always nearby, there is the strange feeling of being in a barren desert.

one building on the grounds of the Arsenale














Along with the Giardini and Arsenale spaces, there are pavilions scattered all over Venice that are open free to the public. These are various indoor and outdoor spaces temporarily hosting art from many more countries, not included in the two main exhibition sites.

Like any large exhibition where thousands of artworks are on display, one is bound to see a wide variety of the good, the bad and the ugly. I also found myself in front of or surrounded by things that were just plain weird. One thing I was very aware of was the proclivity for new media and video art. I am still coming to terms with my feelings about the profuse amount of video work, but some of it was interesting. The masterpiece of the medium was The Clock by Christian Marclay, winner of the prestigious Golden Lion Award. The film is 24 hours and it plays in a darkened space at the Arsenale, peopled with lounging visitors in an array of comfy white couches. In The Clock Marclay has meticulously collected and edited together clips from various films that have one thing in common - all have a clock or watch telling the real time. As you watch the clips flowing seamlessly into one another you are taken into another reality while continuously reminded of the actual passage of time. There is not a continuous narrative, but the film holds viewer attention with moments of suspense, drama, comedy, and heartbreak. One cannot help but feel a sense of intrigue and it is compelling to sit for long stretches of time in anticipation of what will come next. It is an commentary on the concept of time, its passage and how we use it.
Here's a link to an an obviously bootlegged video on vimeo

There was so much to see that I could really go on all day. However, I will try to keep it short here and just list a few of my favorites:
At the Giardini there was Christian Boltansky at the French pavilion, Sigalit Landau at the Isreali pavilion and a cool animation by Tabaimo at the Japanese pavilion. Also interesting were the pavilions of Great Britain (installation by Mike Nelson) and Denmark (a curated show called Speech Matters with work by various artists.)

I liked a number of things in the Central Pavilion. A couple of things I took special note of were the poetic text-based work of Swedish artist Karl Holmqvist as well as the detailed stitchery of outsider artist Jeanne Natalie Wintsch. A highlight was the display of masterpieces by Ventetian Renaissance painter Jacopo Tintoretto.

Karl Holmqvist, fragment of a full room installation












Jeanne Natalie Wintsch














At the Arsenale my favorite works were the melting sculptures by Urs Fischer and Marclay's The Clock. The Indian pavilion really stood out for me with its illustrative installations by Praneet Soi and elegant woodblock prints by Zarina Hashmi.

Praneet Soi, detail view














Zarina Hashmi



















Zarina Hashmi, Stars






















As far as photography, I enjoyed seeing the work of Luigi Ghirri, David Goldblatt, Elad Lassry, and Taryn Simon, but was kind of disappointed that I only discovered one photographer that I had not heard of before, that being Annette Kelm.

Annette Kelm