February 25 to May 22, 2017
2025 Benjamin Franklin Parkway
Philadelphia, barnesfoundation.org

“The Person of the Crowd” is a large survey of 53 artists that has numerous successes and failures, leaning towards success. It is inherently unwieldy, stretching across five or six decades surveying installation, video, performance and conceptual works centered on the theme of the social and political context of modern urban life, crowds, political life, private lives in public, and communities. The exhibit includes work by seminal artists in these various fields as well as recent developments. Many of the works are shown dovetailed and overlapping each other in one large gallery, in a way that is for the most part a curatorial success, pulling into interactions with each other video works and conceptual sculptures sometimes shown dryly and remotely detached in the white and black boxes of other museums and galleries.

Several parts of the exhibit take place around the streets of Philadelphia including posters and billboards by Jenny Holzer and the Guerilla Girls, as well as performances by Wilmer Wilson, Ayana Evans, and a re-enactment of Tania Bruguera’s Diplacement of 1998, an important work of recent political art resulting in Brugeura’s arrest and detention in Cuba. The pieces in the gallery stretch from Robert Rauschenberg, Guy Debord, and Vito Acconci, to more recent artists such as Zhang Huan, Virgil Marti, and Papo Colo. If the viewer is familiar with art history, works such as Carolee Schneemann’s Beatle Box, c. 1960s, and David Hammons Untitled (Speakers), 1986, provide a whiff of context to the more recent works. One of the failures of the show is that even with the judicious and informative labeling, some of this historical context is hard to grasp. On the other hand, a success of the show is that even slight pieces—slight in relation to the other later accomplishments of these two artists—are brought back to life by seeing them next to other likeminded works. A kind of visual and historical rewinding takes place in this exhibit which is hard at times to follow, but yields a more vivid experience of most of the individual works. Again this is not without some failures, but the successes often outweigh them.

Along with the art of this period, “Person of the Crowd” weaves together two additional contexts in its consideration of contemporary flânerie: the history of the Barnes Foundation itself and the narrative provided by Walter Benjamin and others in regard to 19th century Parisian idlers, voyeurs, and observers in the crowd. The Barnes Foundation is a non-museum intended to be a visual demonstration of a self-proclaimed “objective” method of understanding art through plastic values that was developed by Albert Barnes and the longtime director, Violette de Mazia, and illustrated by many of the best works money could buy in the first half of the 20th Century, hung floor to ceiling and wall to wall. “Person of the Crowd” curiously displays works similarly, except the interactions of visual qualities reach across diverse mediums and speak more directly to social and political worlds.

Thom Collins, executive director and president of the Barnes Foundation, and curator of the exhibition, focuses in his wall text on Edgar Allen Poe’s short story “The Man of the Crowd;” the poet, Charles Baudelaire; and the idea of someone who has the leisure time to wander through crowds in the city, such as the flâneur, or dandy, all of which figure prominently in Walter Benjamin’s essay “The Paris of the Second Empire in Baudelaire.”

The main collection of the Barnes Foundation carefully compares visual qualities of works in its “wall pictures” which for some are curatorially heavy-handed. Similar relationships occur in this exhibit. It is questionable if Jean Shin’s found pieces of blue painted plywood construction site fencing from her 2016 “Surface Tension” series are seen best here running through the middle of the show rather than closer to the wall, as she has shown them before. Here Shin’s series seems to be a room divider and backdrop for other works, even as they regain some original context as found fencing.

“Person of the Crowd” provides the rare pleasures of seeing Robert Rauschenberg’s 1961 Second Time Painting (1961), next to Brett Day Windham’s Rosary (2008-13), both of which examine the mystery of quotidian objects. Pope L.’s The Great White Way, 22 Miles, 9 Years, 1 Street (2003) contrasts vividly and starkly with Kimsooja’s Beggar Woman – Cairo (2001). The efforts of performance and the engagement of the spectator are questioned by both. In a corresponding way, the narrative territories of many of these works, if read from the right angle, pleasurably enrich each other’s various transitional states of social identity, as in the works of Jefferson Pinder, Papo Colo, Sanford Biggers, Kendell Geers, and Lynn Hershman Leeson. Likewise the rooms of the Barnes Foundation makes use of strategic comparisons that inverts relationships between performance pieces, say African masks, and narrative art, such as Picasso’s and Matisse’s paintings. Benjamin in Part II of his essay contrasts a hero or political figure that stands in the crowd with the heroism of the crowd. Pinder’s Marathon (2001) and Biggers’ Duchamp in the Congo (1997) leans more to what separates members from the crowd, but not without redefining a moving center of the crowd.

Beyond the obvious social and political engagement that links the works of “Person of the Crowd” are their narrative complexities, narrative twists and turns, made evident in conjunction with formal, visual, and political weights. (This is in fact true of the Barnes Foundation’s collection as a whole, but is rarely acknowledged by either its admirers or its detractors.) And part of this narrative complexity that cannot be overlooked is the diversity of voices and cultural outlooks present in this exhibit. (Ditto.) While including a nod to 19th century Paris, other connections and conversations are brought into a state of motion and play, maybe frenetic but not chaotic, which renders the works and their themes animated and in a state of transition.

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October 9, 2015 – January 31, 2016

ARC (the Contemporary Art Department of the Musée d’art Moderne de la Ville de Paris)

“Co-workers: Network as Artist” is a large and inclusive exhibition of digital art, and perhaps the first one to focus on the network, the internet, or the web as the creator of aesthetic experience. At this point digital works and web based works reach out into multiple arenas of the social and aesthetic worlds, in different voices with separate emotions, discrete social connections, and particular perceptions. The primary three impressions given by this survey of works made by this network and the people using it are that the works first of all are resolutely diverse and even individualistic, second reassert the presence the body as a social and physical source, and third reflect social concerns related to digital networks.

The first room confronts you immediately with the body as social media and personal event, through the Los Angeles artist Parker Ito’s 2015 work PBBvx.12345678910111213_son_of_cheeto_1415161718192021222324 . The images presented like posters around the walls are gathered from the screens computers and phones, and altered to speak for the artist and his body, as in the repeated phrase, “The inside of my balls is a network of some sorts.” However in Ito’s work, as in many of the others, images are repositioned, juxtaposed, printed over each other, seemingly both eventfully but obscure, immediately available through the digital imaging and complex printing systems, yet also obscure in terms of locations, references and meanings, which are not absent or absurdist, so much as mixed, mixed up and multiply connected.

The virtual and the photographed body, its locations, shells, processes, social activities, and networks, appear throughout the exhibit in the works of Ito, Christopher Kulendran Thomas, Aude Pariset with Juliette Bonneviot, Cecile Evans, None Futbol Club, Ryan Trecartin, David Douard, Hito Steyerl, GCC, DIS and Shawn Maximo. Roadmaps and ideas that run through this exhibition include the body and its locations as well as social structures as imagined in different visual regimes. Aude Pariset uses reformulated printing processes to create three-dimensional sheets of color, line, and hanging materials that are as much from the world of advertising images as from social media—perhaps advertising as social media and designed communication. Like Ito the digital network is involved, but the images are reprocessed through a lens of aesthetic and documentary processes. In Aude’s works reformulated printing processes and digital processes extend each other’s ideas and meanings

Groups and collectives are represented, including GCC, None Futbol Club and DIS, the latter, known through the online DIS magazine, designed the show. The DIS work in the exhibition, The Kitchen (KEN), locates us and our bodies in front of computer screens, head-phones and photos of an array of futurisitic latrines around a pool.   Bodily functions, social relations and digital engagement are mixed and reshuffled. Throughout the exhibition the viewer is drawn into relations re-established and redefined through both technologies and our social uses of them.

The reflections on human nature, social control and functioning, and narrative power are drawn from the interactions of the body, its locations, and its desires for connections and displays. Work no. 2B by None Futbol Club equates identity and haircuts between Marcel Duchamp and athletes, using neon, photographs, and stylish gym bags. The location is the locker room, but the function is social identity and branding. On another spectrum and from another visual regime, David Douard’s We’ve Ne’er Gotten shows an image of an individual turned in on his own world in a backlight photo-box. The world is drawn-in and located through psychological isolation. The image is powerful through its multiple references to public and private space, recognizable from older mass medias and sensationalized journalism, as well as newer transformations of this such as YouTube and Facebook, here repositioned as personal insight into a human condition.

The idea of media is still present in these works, but recedes into the background of the technological handling of the media. Photography, film, installation, sculpture, video, painting, and printing are present, but augmented, manipulated, and engaged with the means provided by digital media and the internet. To be clear, in the end here it is not clear if the network of the title is the digital network, meaning the network within a computer, or the network of the internet, the network between computers. In the final consideration, I think it is fair to say that this distinction is blurred, if not erased. It is easy to forget—even for people who have lived through the change in the last thirty or forty years—how quickly and decisively we’ve moved from the now archaic world of personal computing, to a digital network in which a separate computer or phone is an outmoded device, barely usable and impoverished, if unconnected or un-connectable to a network.

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Okwui Enwezor’s two main presentations of the present and future of visual culture, at the Arsenale and at the Giardini’s Central Pavilion, are difficult, provocative and unwieldy, as intended. The work shown at the Arsenale is like a full course meal from soup to coffee, the Central Pavilion at the Giardini is more like a cafeteria style serving of a range of dishes you can choose yourself. They each have their advantages. One starts, in Room 1, with the American artist Bruce Nauman’s well-known neon antinomies such as Human Nature/Life Death/Knows Doesn’t Know (1983), which annoyingly and persistently flash their contradictory assertions at you from the darkened walls. They share this space with the 2015 work of Algerian/Parisian artist Adel Abdessemed, whose swords and machetes are clustered, sticking up from the floor, and titled Nympheas or water lilies. The works of these two artists, in their darkened room, as a prologue to what follows, don’t so much re-enforce each other or dialogue, as present two contrasting manners of plugging into the culture around them, Nauman as signage of pop-culture aphorisms, and Abdessemed as a relevant yet straining op-ed page metaphor. The viewer is put in a mode of plugging in, connecting to the work, extracting fragmented meanings and pleasures, and moving on. The implied point is not so much to seek unified understanding or unifying judgments of value and resonance, but to seek rhapsodic impressions, maybe snatches of fact and opinion, and continue to the next.

Toward the end of the Arsenale, in Room 11, at another terminus of this cultural multiplicity, is a room containing among other works, Rikrit Tiravanija’s Untitled 2015 of 14,086 unfired clay bricks with the Chinese characters which one can take for a donation of 10 Euros. The money goes to an organization supporting Chinese worker’s rights. Also in this room is Maria Eichhorn’s presentation of works created on site by volunteers on blank canvases painted with a single color (Toile/Pinceau/Peinture, 2015. So here audience and viewer are invited to participation and engagement, undermining and subverting passivity and viewing. One enters the workshop and can assume a living role in relation to works in the states of production and distribution. In this room is also a continuous performance by two people of Dora Garcia’s The Sinthome Score (2014 – 2015). One performer reads and one assumes assigned choreographed postures related to the text based on a Jacques Lacan seminar, and they alternate roles periodically. The viewers are left to interact as they wish with the performers. Works like these that once seemed to grate more strongly against prevailing norms, now seem largely unmoored and single-minded. While the future always holds the possibility of forging more connections to these works, the connections offered seem weak in the present.  The actual final room of the Arsenal, Room 12, extends these ideas in the works of Cuban artist and activist Tania Bruguera.

Enwezor proposes three filters for the exhibit, and possibly for a view on contemporary culture and the art world at large: the filters of liveness and epic duration, the garden of disorder, and reading capital. And presumably Enwezor’s filters should be seen in relation to culture and art in states of permanent transition with unfixed goals and concepts, as he has previously described the art world. Enwezor’s title for the whole mass of works is “All the World’s Futures.” The ambition Enwezor presumably sees in the works and their being brought together is admirable for embracing both the anxieties and hopefulness implied. In the end, in my opinion, its value is supported not only by the Marxian evaluations of value, work and effort ­but also by a Kantian critique of experiential engagement, implied in numerous echoes in Enwezor’s essay on the shows filters.

Between Rooms 1 and 11 are the works of roughly 90 to 100 artists and collaborative groups that cover a range of contemporary visual art, performances, videos, sculptures, films, installations, objects, images, and paintings.   They follow a range of concepts and impressions that resist unification, fixation and rigidity of thought and experience, and they serve to extend in various manners the ideas of 19th, 20th, and 21st-century observers ranging from Marx, to Kristeva, and Jacques LaPlanche to Enwezor himself. Likewise they extend the ideas and works of various artists extending from Romare Bearden and Gerhard Richter to Rauschenberg, Kiki Smith, Kara Walker, Lorna Simpson and Joan Jonas – the last two represented in the Arsenale and the US Pavilion respectively.

One further focus or group of ideas to access these works is provided by the judgments of the jury in awarding Adrian Piper, Massinissa Selmani and Harun Farocki, respectively, the Golden Lion, Silver Lion and Honorable Mention. While Piper moves closer to the concerns of Room 11 and Garica and Tiravanija than perhaps Nauman and Abdessemed, it is important to notice that her work offers multiple connections to contemporary culture, if mainly through social and artworld institutions and their critique. Her primary work in Room 5 is The Probable Trust Registry: The Rules of the Game # 1-3 (2013). Three performers/recorders sit at three circular desks with three aphorisms – or brandings – in gold on the wall behind them. Viewers are invited to register into a system where contact information is eventually shared with other registrants and contact is made, which is recorded and kept as part of an ongoing archive of contacts. Even viewers not registering are made aware of a system of which they are not part, going on around them, paralleling everyday experience of social, political and commercial exchange. Piper continues to highlight the inclusions and exclusions that go on around us and provoke our knowledge of them. While clearly conceptual in its premises, Piper’s work offers several parallels to the culture of the art world and the culture of everyday life that locates it and gives it more than a single focus.

The Czech German filmmaker of a mixed German and Indian family, Farocki who died last summer at the age of 70, is presented through a section of Room 8 which shows an atlas of his films on small screens in a matrix around the walls. I am not sure if this is the best way to either be introduced to his works or to sum up his works. But the films themselves are careful observations of everyday life through short, often found, footage. Again, like Piper’s works, his offer multiple intersections to the world of art and the world of every day life, including his re-working of ideas of, among others, Bertolt Brecht and Jean-Luc Godard.

Farocki’s inclusion, like that of Terry Adkin and Chris Marker, remind us of recently deceased artists whose works continue to make their impact on ideas of other artists; Farocki and Marker in the mode of film and photography and Adkin in the installation of sculptures with African American and musical references and sources.

Massinissa Selmani was born in Algeria and studied in France. His works, such as the drawing series A-t-on besoin des ombres pour se souvenir? [Do we need shadows to remember?] (2013-2014), are sparse, almost illustrational, drawings of news events and photos, which document both the quotidian nature and the bizarreness of reported news. Selmani has also worked in short projected animations and photo collages to report on actual events and planned utopian social structures. Like other artists showing at this Biennale, his works record and diagram present moments and idealized plans. Like Selmani, the artists Joachim Schonfeldt and Madhusudhanan, use drawing as an end in image making in order to portray and report on how the world is simplified and reimagined through our observations and experiences of it. In the works of these artists which serve to represent both deadpan and dreamlike image making, recording the present moment is more prevalent than presenting structures and images that break down or pull apart our sense of the world to move us into the future. Rather than rebellion of the present moment as a precondition for future development, the respect for present moments becomes a prerequisite for modeling future thoughts. Selmani and Schonfeldt use drawing as just one of their media, exploring similar connections to political and social events through photography, and film. They both are using fixed image media in ways that parallel Farocki’s use of short films, which is to say as a media for creating essays on current events and for reflecting opinions about these events.

The stated curatorial premises of the Biennale, in dialogue with the works themselves, yield an interesting emphasis on works that stress the present as a model for engaging the future. These works are strongest when they offer more than one connection to the current art world and the culture at large.

But not all the works fit neatly inside the narrowest confines of the promise of the curatorial concepts. The widest readings of liveness, disorder and value lead in some other directions. Some works stretch across a wide range of cultural concerns including those from recent, if not contemporary, art history. As Amanda Sarroff discuses in her comments on Gedi Sibony’s paintings in the Short Guide to the Biennale. His works touch on concerns of Arte Povera, Minimalism, and Rauschenberg’s combines. Sibony paints on and over aluminum sheets often printed with other images from their previous uses as sides of trucks. In works such as The Shake (2015) and One Foot to Shoe On (2015), he manages to engage, almost as collaged elements, shapes and partial images from commercial messages as abstract elements in large abstract images of three or four colors and a similar number of shapes. In a way that seems to move back and forth from a magnification of small scales to a shrinking of immense scales, Sibony creates a virtual world of image and light that seems recognizable from both the physical and the digital worlds of structure and space, and from art works of the past and the present.

Some of the most moving works in Venice, among a host of notable works that there is not room to mention here, go beyond the curatorial issues of the exhibitions. And yet they carry out the promise of Enwezor’s curatorial premises. Jenny Holzer’s installation from her “War Paintings” Series at the Correr Musuem make moving visual statements. Holzer’s works are large printed canvases of the redacted statements of the United States military and intelligence reports concerning interrogation of those held in the Iraq War. They are shown among the paintings and artifacts at the Correr Museum of Venice’s past glories and accomplishments. They run the risk of exploitation of the topic and people involved, and yet they can be defended both as acts of journalism and art. They quote the words of those interviewed as represented in the documents released by the freedom of information act. They stand as un-easy records of words and acts classified as “interrogation,” but clearly of actual inhumane and cruel treatment of the interrogated.

Many of the works at the Biennale embody the Enwezor’s focuses of a Garden of Disorder and Reading Capitol in relation to the world at large. Good examples are Helen Sear’s “. . . the rest is smoke,” and the Invisible Borders: Trans-African Project, a collaboration initiated by the Nigerian artist Emeka Okereke. Sear and the Trans-African Project both show a series of projections and photographs, which address the place of humanity in relation to the natural world, our use of the natural world as a source of economic value and desired goods, and our reliance on our environment and political structures. At this point we could call this a presentation of imaginative reporting and engaged looking, which is maybe the same thing. They offer us a vision not of a road map for the future, but of a cautionary tale of future choices. If our use of images and art is to bring to life shared stories about our world that both report on its condition, and also allow further considerations in our own thought, then Sear’s and the Trans_African Project’s series of projection and photographs stand as one clear example of how to accomplish this.

“Slip of the Tongue” at the Punta della Dogana curated by Danh Vo provides a contrast to the Biennale that tells a different related curatorial story of contemporary works. If the Biennale provides an example of the strengths of curating contemporary works in an attempt to place them so they both tell their own stories and offer interesting dialogues with each other, this show – also huge in its scope with 50 artists or more spanning eight or so centuries – shows some strengths and some weaknesses of curating works from a single and more impassioned point of view. The sharpness of Vo’s viewpoint is evident in both how he separates the works, and how he brings them together. In short, some of the works exude a passion and breadth of thought that allows them to play brilliantly and at times subtly off each other, and sometimes they become shallow and more desultory. At times one feels Vo wants us desperately to relate to the works as he does, but we can’t locate our history and connection to them.

In both “All the World’s Futures” and “Slip of the Tongue” there are examples of curatorial intelligence in allowing works separate spaces to speak for themselves: for example in the Central Pavilion of the Giardini, the three works of Wangechi Mutu, and at the Punta della Dogana the Cri du Coeur (2005) and “Codex Artaud” series (1971 – 1972) of Nancy Spero. But also there are places in each when the works are placed to allow the voices of the artists to be heard in concert or in contrast to each other, such as Nauman and Abdessemed mentioned above, and at the Giardini, the works of Huma Bhabha and Ellen Gallagher. At Punta della Dogana there are several examples of dialogues attempted and provoked. The oddly at once subtle and jarring sculptural juxtapositions of Jean-Luc Moulene’s La Toupie (2015) yields a set of difficult but interesting comparisons with the awkward but material directness of Sadamasa Montonaga’s Work 1961. Likewise, Moulene’s work contrasts but enriches aspects of Vo’s pieces, also close by. Both curatorial objectivity, like Enwezor, and curatorial passion and conceptual pointedness, like Vo’s, can have advantages and disadvantages.

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Shinique Smith: Bright Matter, the artist’s long-run exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts Boston seen from August 23, 2014 through March 1 of this year, coincided with the opening of her mural at Dewey Square in downtown Boston.  In his first article for artcritical.com, Philadelphia-based writer Tom Csaszar argues for the eloquence and visual power of her work

At their simplest Shinique Smith’s works are structured by a sweeping line interacting with a bundle of bright colors, often a cluster of actual fabrics. The line is at times calligraphic, at other times graphic – as in a printed representation of liquid motion such as that used by David Reed – and at still other times aerosol and graffiti-like. What keeps these works from falling prey to their own artifices, attitudes, and devices is Smith’s ability to activate the works as light, color, and matter, in implied motion and rhythm.

On the one hand, it is fair to say that Smith explores an almost encyclopedic variety of ways of how to use fabrics like paint – as well as how to use paint to imitate fabrics. Sometimes one of these ways, like the bleaching of blue denim in The Spark (2013), yields an engaging and accomplished work, but one that is fairly simple and one-layered. In other works, such as Majesty (2012), which are made only out of paint on canvas, in this case ink and acrylic, her calligraphic lines sweep around her billowing forms of bright colors. These bright shapes seem to be both a source and diagram for how she uses fabrics in her other works. But here it also looks like her observations of how colors and shapes from fabrics collage with each other and paint. The effects of motion and light are engaging for the pieces of a narrative they might imply, but are like songs that are melodically complex, but lyrically a bit plain.

On the other hand, in some works, Smith pares down her use of collaged fabric into three different modes. Bigger aesthetic moments come in these pieces in which Smith uses purchased fabrics as elements of color and shape, often combined with a painted surface, to make abstract images that hang like paintings on a wall, that is until they start to move off the wall into the room. Intelligently and perceptively responsive to the materials and processes, Smith combines fabric and paint in three clearly differentiated ways: first, by almost completely absorbing and unifying the fabric elements with the paint into one design, second, by letting the fabric hang looser and be a separate semi-sculptural element in the work, and third, by developing the fabric as an entirely separate part of the work, which in its totality now becomes half-painting, half-sculpture. An example of the third way, There were Sunday Mornings (2008) has a train of fabric, so identified in the material list, which establishes itself as a separate object, leaving the surface to fall to the floor. It is politely evocative and carefully poetic. Bright Matter (2013) clearly establishes its own world, the fabric almost working free from the image, but not quite. Here in Smith’s second mode, the fabric becomes another dimension in the work, but one that is not fully sculptural. It reasserts the movement and color of the flat surface continuing its mood and activity into bundles of color and light that activate its own separate abstract imaginary world. And in the most unifying presentation of fabric and paint, Through Native Streets (2011) and Seven Moons (2013) incorporate the fabric patterns and colors more fully into one abstract image. While they still have their own voice, one differentiated from the paint and ink, they are speaking in the same space and at the same time. In the case of Through Native Streets (2011), the dramatic tensions and narrative contrasts have multiple layers, patterned and emotional contrasts, and a tightly orchestrated and focused range of colors. I admire the eloquence and visual power of both of these works, while yet being aware of their different types of drama.

Smith also uses fabrics bundled into pillars of color or hung across the ceiling like flying animals, surreal plants, or brightly colored irregular planets.  Here Smith begins to realize most fully what the fabrics can do as sculpture. However, their dramatic and visual potential isn’t yet as fully developed as in the best of her collaged paintings with fabric. In these Smith is developing, with careful consideration, an entirely different type of potential for her materials. These works just seem to be at an earlier stage of development, or maybe are becoming an outlet for a simpler way in which Smith responds to these materials.

Her mural at Dewey Square in downtown Boston, Seven Moon Junction (2013), based on her painting mentioned above, shows how well she is able to adapt her images to the size of architecture and monument. The image is transformed into an imagined world, and transforms the buildings around it into a cinematic fantasy of the different scales of the built urban environment. This mural exhibits an appreciable visual sensitivity to the narrative and rhythmic possibilities of color and scale.

Long-standing passions for abstraction, as well as older passions for formal harmonies and personal emotions, show signs of wearing thin here and there – and appealing to memories of past delights more than immediate desires. However Smith’s works revive and animate legitimate interests related to these through connections to contemporary culture as well as past works. My understanding of the power of images, as well as the power of abstracted details from life, is enriched by an understanding of Smith’s artistic output. I think it will be hard in the future to write a history of art and painting of the first quarter of the 21^st Century without a consideration of Smith’s works and the light they shed in dialogue with pieces like those of Fiona Rae, Michalene Thomas, Linda Benglis, Amy Sillman or Charlene von Heyl, to name just a few.

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