Joseph Kosuth at the Hirshhorn

Last night I heard Joseph Kosuth speak at the Hirshhorn Museum and what an experience -- I've been attending artist lectures for over a decade and nothing compared to this one. Where to begin? This is an artist who pioneered conceptual art, most notably in the 1960s when he undertook his series of "investigations" into ways in which art could exceed the limitations of institutional and structural hierarchies of art and art history. Kosuth is known for his brilliant and ironic appropriation of words -- in which the reading of the words and the subsequent understanding of its meaning (by the viewer) is the ultimate goal of the artwork and aesthetics. Whether or not the viewer deems it ugly or beautiful is besides the point -- the process is what matters. Which again goes to the heart of my own perspective about "where" art resides -- it's in the interaction between artwork and viewer, when the viewer is moved/disturbed/inspired/puzzled/etc.

Prior to hearing Kosuth speak, I was most familiar with his neon works. But during the lecture I was really intrigued with his larger-scaled pieces, particularly the permanent installations at various venues in Europe, in which he employed significant portions of texts and ideas -- that contradicted each other -- resulting in textures and overlays of meaning and ideas. His installation in Copenhagen was one of the pieces I was most struck by. He began with a section of Hans Christian Anderson's "Emperor's New Clothes" (one of Kosuth's favorite childhood stories) and then visually interspersed it with fragments of Kierkegaard's damning review of the same text - but took these fragments out of context and connected them in such a way that it read in defense of Anderson. Brilliant. I absolutely love Kosuth's genius and rebellious nature, which (in this particular instance) was defiant against the philosopher who had criticized his beloved author, but in a larger context, defied the very annals of art history in the making of his highly intellectualized text art that negated the requirement of paper and paintbrush that had come before him.

Initially signed with Leo Castelli (when Kosuth was a mere 24 years old), he has been represented by Sean Kelly Gallery for many years, has exhibited around the world (including several years at Documenta and the Venice Biennale) and is currently showing a large holding of his work at the Hirshhorn Museum. I will continue to enjoy learning about and viewing his work.

Joseph Kosuth, Self-Defined Object (White), neon, 1966

Review of the Christo exhibit in today's Post

Did anyone else read it, and what are your thoughts? Here is the link to the scathing review given the current Christo exhibition at the Phillips, written by Blake Gopnik for the Washington Post. And here are my thoughts --

Number 1. Gopnik condescends that the artists are asking the viewers to consider art that "doesn't exist" and "may never be made". Well, I think he misses the point entirely -- that in fact, the art does exist, it exists (as the artists themselves stated quite clearly in their written and verbal presentations) in the process of acquiring permits; in the process of spending decades planning for it, raising money for it, creating the materials for it; and in the minds of those who are for it and against it. And perhaps then, existentially speaking, whether or not it is actually made (which it will, given their track record) is irrelevant.

Number 2. I don't think Christo or Jeanne-Claude have ever claimed to be "environmental" or green artists, so Gopnik's argument (that people driving to see the finished project in gas-guzzling SUVs and that the use of excessively large quantities of fabric is in contrast to the artists' values) is a bit off.

Number 3. This is what really got me going -- he claims that "everyone" agrees that museums are on a "special-exhibition treadmill" that is "exhausting" them and creating a "problem". As I see it, special exhibitions are perhaps the best way that a museum can actively engage in the current trends of the contemporary art market. And that they also provide a substantial revenue source for their budget, as well as invaluable publicity. For example, the recent Jeff Wall retrospective was immensely important for both the artist and the organizing institution for all the reasons I just stated. Without a special exhibition program, a museum is left with a permanent collection alone, which by itself is too slow-moving and arduous in acquiring new pieces (which can take years sometimes) to stay active and relevant in today's art conversation. I think that the REAL "easy measure" for the "worth of any show" is whether or not it makes someone want to visit the museum in the first place. And while they're visiting - either for the special exhibition OR the permanent collection - they will visit the other as well.

Certainly, this exhibition might not be for everyone, but just as certainly, it is not a waste of time for either the artists, the museum, or for many of us art lovers who understand and appreciate their work and vision.

Christo & Jeanne-Claude at The Phillips Collection

I just returned from a lecture by Christo and Jeanne-Claude at the Phillips, where their current exhibition, Over the River: A Work in Progress, is currently being exhibited. And what an amazing experience -- it reminded me of why I love (and miss) working in the art world -- the enormous personalities and ability by artists to see life in ways that escape most of us. And within this world, Christo and Jeanne-Claude are singularly remarkable; I can't think of anyone else who compares to them in terms of the parameters given to their projects and the devotion they outwardly show each other and their work. They spend upwards of tens of millions of dollars (all earned through the sale of drawings and collages of Christo's preliminary plans), hundreds of skilled laborers and engineers, and decades of planning, acquiring permits, and educating people along the way about their work and vision.

And the result -- fabric installations or wrapped objects - exist for merely 2 weeks before being taken down, forever. And if they had their way about it, they would be deinstalled after just 4 days. Amazing to me -- all of that work, money, and years of planning for a fleeting moment. Nothing is permanent (save for a few precious sculptures in museums collections around the world and the aforementioned collages). It's truly remarkable, and I was moved tonight when Jeanne-Claude, in her self-deprecating, witty and pointed way described the process of how she & Christo infuse into their art, as an aesthetic principal, "love and tenderness", which we have for our childhood, and for our own lifetime, which we know won't last forever. So when she looks at one of their completed projects, there is love and tenderness for that work, which is made more poignant and powerful with the knowledge that in just a few days it will no longer exist. In contrast with the oil paintings and steel sculptures that occupy our landscape, these ethereal artworks are indeed "precious" and fleeting.

To the point that I've tried to make in these posts about my own perspective about art -- that when you define "what is art", it's not about the object per se, but about "where" is art. Art exists, in opinion, in the experience of viewing. When a person is moved by a work of art, or disturbed by it, or inspired, or puzzled, or delighted, or even offended, that is where art is found. Christo said something tonight along similar lines -- that their art exists not only in the completed project, but in the process of completing it, in the process of decades spent trying to obtain the necesary permits, and in the minds and souls of both the people who support their work and of the people who want to stop them. Basically, it's in the experience of it.

My two favorite works are pictured above -- Running Fence, of which the west end literally dives into the Pacific Ocean by 1/4 mile (knowing that the work continued beyond a person's ability to see it absolutely thrills me) -- and Reichstag in Berlin, because of the visceral polarity between the rigidity and formal structure of the building and the soft and sensual quality of the fabric.

This post is dedicated to my late graduate school professor and thesis advisor, Doug Adams, who worked with and absolutely adored Christo and Jeanne-Claude. You are missed.

Jenny Holzer commission for the Guggenheim

Everyone has been talking about the Jenny Holzer site-specific light projection commissioned for the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, which was unveiled this past Monday evening at the completion of a 3-year museum renovation. I have always admired her work, which is known for its witty and provocative manipulation and compilation of the written word. This particular piece will include her own writing as well as excerpts from other texts, including “Tortures,” from the View with a Grain of Sand by Wisława Szymborska. It will be projected every Friday evening through the rest of the calendar year.

Jenny Holzer, For the Guggenheim, 2008

Richard Avedon at the Corcoran

Has anyone else seen this show? Thoughts? I wasn't sure -- and actually felt a bit underwhelmed after walking through the exhibition last week. I had seen Avedon's famous fashion photographs in San Francisco at Fraenkel Gallery several years ago, which I LOVED, and these "portraits of power" at the Corcoran here in Washington were obviously a bit different in both subject matter and purpose. The walls of each gallery were lined with small photographs of everyone ranging from Barack Obama (2004) to Dorothy Parker (1958) - the comprehensive scope of which was somewhat at odds with the idea of a few people in power over many others. Most of them were taken from the waist up, or just the head, some were emotionally expressive, others weren't. After a while my eyes glazed over -- until I reached the outside hallway where 5 large scale pictures were placed side by side, each taken almost full-length, and installed high enough on the wall so that each person's eyes were looking down at mine. I finally stopped my meandering and became transfixed by the images. They were riveting - especially of Rose Kennedy, whose slim and frail figure belied the power of her gaze which spoke of generations of family, legacy, tradition, and a lifetime of experiences much beyond what I could comprehend standing before her.

One of the Washington Post reviews last week was a bit scathing - questioning whether or not the pictures spoke of "inner truth" or perversity. And others have questioned the Cocoran's motivation behind mounting such a wide-appealing and perhaps commercial show (vis-a-vis Ansel Adams), particularly because of their impoverished financial situation. Interesting questions to ponder.

Richard Avedon, Dwight D. Eisenhower, 1964

Richard Avedon, Rose Kennedy, 1976

Jeff Koons at Versailles

This is fun - diary entry from ArtForum's "Scene and Herd" about Jeff Koons' current exhibition at Versailles (comprised of 17 works, none of them new, Split Rocker belonging to French billionaire Francois Pinault, one of the show's patrons), which has caused quite the uproar and buzz of excitement around town - Hoover vacuum cleaners in the chateau?! Inflatable plastic beach rings along the fence?? 40-foot tall flowering head of a rocking horse plopped in the flowerbed of the Orangerie gardens?? I think the entire affair is just delightful. And I can't help but giggle at the sight of one of my favorite Koons pieces, Balloon Dog, standing so proudly in the baroque space surrounding it.

Jeff Koons, Split Rocker, stainless steel, soil, geotextile fabric, internal irrigation system, and live flowering plants (shown installed at Avignon, 2000)
441 x 465 x 426 inches

Other photos from the Versailles show opening (Koons pictured second from the left)