ART + ARCHITECTURE
reveal angst, stoicism, and an alchemical intimacy—all displayed palpably.
Ms. Grabner’s fourth floor is the most
buoyant and energized, and surely
would have floated to the top had it
been installed on a lower floor. It is
also jam-packed, containing roughly
half of this very cramped Biennial’s
works. Craft, expressionist painting,
and bulbous sculpture make for a
madcap top floor. A memorable work
from Ms. Grabner’s selection, Pillar of
Inquiry/Supple Column, is by octogenarian Sheila Hicks. Masses of rainbow
colored string seem to pour out of the
ceiling, cascading onto the floor in an
ebullient fiber sculpture.
Although each curator has chosen
some memorable pieces and there is a
laudable void of trophy art on display,
the selected works are uneven and
the totality of the experience leaves
one wanting. Too many of the pieces
cannot stand alone—they require the
crutch of a verbose wall panel. This is
fine to a degree, as conceptual pieces
in particular can require a bit of work.
But here, principally on floors two and
three, one spends more time reading
than looking. In general it feels as if the
three curators are playing tug of war
with us—pulling us hither and yon.
One could simmer and whine about
the fatuity of organizing the Biennial
in this hat trick fashion or one can just
roll with it…truly this seems to be
the manner in which most Whitney
Biennials are enjoyed…cede a definitive understanding of the whole and
instead focus on individual pieces
which are intriguing and the trends
and themes which support such
works. Employing this thematic rubric
to dissect this year’s Biennial, there are
several themes which emerge…
SOUNDING OUT SOUND
Performance, video, and sound installations—time-based art forms—are
ubiquitous in this year’s Biennial but
let’s just focus on sound. Entering the
show, one is greeted by Ambient Marcel
(Waiting, Working, Erupting), a piece
by Sergei Tcherepnin which employs
surface transducers to make several
of the distinctive Breuer lobby light
fixtures emit sound. The lights click,
clack, and squeal creating a disturbing mood as one prepares to enter the
show. The odd utterances from above
make the patrons pause and actively
listen in a futile attempt to make sense
of the noises, and the quotidian, perfunctory lobby space is transformed
into a gallery. And if one becomes
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