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Carnegie International: As puzzling as it should be
Sunday, November 28, 1999 By Mary Thomas, Post-Gazette Art Critic
All things new, by definition, are unfamiliar. To that end, Carnegie International 1999-2000 remains true to the vision of industrialist/philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, who launched a series of exhibitions in 1896 that would expose the people of Pittsburgh to the world's most interesting contemporary art.
In this, the 53rd such exhibition, at the Carnegie Museum of Art through March 26, 2000, some of what is on display proves puzzling at first. But that's how it should be. This is a show that takes time.
While contemporary artists have long emphasized the necessity of visitor interaction with their works, the immersion invited by several of the pieces in this exhibition takes that to new heights. Beyond that, even the more conventionally presented artworks don't, for the most part, reveal themselves during a quick walk-through.
Installation continues to be a medium much-favored by artists, with characteristics like scale and a surround-the-viewer-format that contribute to the impact of these often gallery-sized works. Several participatory pieces are destined to be among the most memorable in the exhibition, in part because the visitor's role is so distinct. To simply look at them is not to know them.
Video and film make up a larger component of the International than ever before, and the various presentations require a commitment of anywhere from just over six minutes to just under an hour and a half. Included are some of the strongest works in the show.
Painting is well-represented for a medium whose death had been prematurely announced, as is photography, the strongest entry being the moodily evocative, large, black-and-white photographs of Czech Republic artist Marketa Othova.
Defying categorization is Janet Cardiff's extraordinary "In Real Time," an audio-video work that requires donning headphones and a tiny video camera with projection screen. The artist's disembodied voice simultaneously delivers a bizarre psychological narration and guides the participant on a 15-minute walk through the stacks of the Carnegie Library. What's most unsettling about the experience is how easily it confuses one's perspective on what is real. Time, scale and the presence of other people -- all come into question in Cardiff's disorienting work.
That would suit curator Madeleine Grynsztejn, who, after traveling around the globe to survey the contemporary art scene, decided that the "most compelling" work being made today was that which examined what constitutes reality as millennium winds down. It is around this theme that she organized her exhibition, and one way to approach the show is with that in mind.
A generous gallery guide helps to negotiate this theoretical territory, and Grynsztejn presents a deeper exploration of the theme in a thoughtful catalog essay that makes good argument for the issues she raises.
While it is a provocative subtext of this exhibition that the dominance of postmodernism has begun to waiver, one needn't be a theoretician to enjoy the artworks. There is no need, for instance, to ponder the experiential component of Ernesto Neto's fanciful "Nude Plasmic" -- a cavernous, enclosed structure made of a stretchy, nylon fabric -- before removing one's shoes and plunging in. Pushing against the thickness of the slightly raised floor is like walking in a softly resistant fog. Its curvaceousness, pendulous sacs and pink orifices all speak to the sensuality of the body.
In the same gallery, John Currin takes a different look at the body in his meticulously painted female nudes that are at once inviting and off-putting. He's combined art historic postures and body types with more contemporary faces that have already begun to look dated, bringing to question the way societies construct feminine beauty. Distorted positioning in some instances further illustrates the liberties taken with the objectified female form.
Sarah Sze's enchanting and extremely individualistic installations fuse the appearance of free-wheeling whimsy with highly refined spatial composition, making them akin to three-dimensional drawings. Her painstaking assemblage of everyday items contains an invitation to reconsider the ordinary.
Chris Ofili, whose rendition of the Virgin Mary at the Brooklyn Museum of Art recently raised the hackles of New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, shows six exuberantly expressive paintings with a scale and color saturation that almost vibrates. His by-now-trademark elephant dung is included on all of these works, which draw stylistically from a range of influences that include pop art and African cave paintings, and generally address the black experience.
While Ofili parodies the stereotyping of blacks in popular culture, two artists, whose site-specific installations are exceptionally suited to their placements, address the African-American experience. Kerry James Marshall and Kara Walker both use narrative and a popular stylistic form -- he, comic strips, and she, the silhouette -- to draw viewers to the points they wish to raise.
Marshall, whose comic strip also runs Tuesdays in the Magazine section of the Post-Gazette, speaks to the exclusion of black people in mainstream newspaper comic pages, among other things. His story line, which pits adhesion to tradition against progressive assimilation, is reminiscent of video artist Shirin Neshat's theme. The conceptual layering of his Treasure Room work, which also plays off the site to address issues of valuation, shows that the dialogue isn't a simple one.
Walker has raised the ire and support of black and white people with her frank scenarios drawn from the history and mythology of racism in America. While they seem imbedded in a quaint and distant past, she challenges that the attitudes continue. Her juxtaposing of the larger-than-life images with the white, classical statuary on the Hall of Sculpture balcony is brilliant.
More inviting is Martin Kippenberger's "The Happy Ending of Franz Kafka's 'Amerika,' " completed three years before his death in 1997. This curious arrangement of found desks and chairs on a game field of artificial green turf references the bureaucratic posturing described in the last chapter of Kafka's novel, and also various art historic periods (for example, abstraction), styles (e.g. African art) and artists (like Tony Oursler).
While entry to Happy Ending is forbidden, one senses it would enhance the work's impact, as does a walk-through of Gregor Schneider's apartment, which reinforces its elusory quality, or the occupation of Suchan Kinoshita's rough-shod but surprise-filled plywood cubicles.
Ann Hamilton's installation in the 1991 International was so striking that it's remained in the memory of those who saw it. Her "welle," a wall in the museum that seeps tear-like beads of water from hundreds of infinitesimal holes, is quieter but potentially also very moving. Such understatement, however, requires perfection to succeed, and the water runoff across the gallery floor -- necessitating periodic and distracting mop-ups -- plus the buckling of the surface at one end, show that there are technical details to be worked out. Also, while one can appreciate that Hamilton had planned for the transcendence that discovery of this work in situ could inspire, the hallway-like trafficking and glaring lighting detract from the quiet that one wishes for while viewing it.
Throughout the exhibition, visitors are confronted with unlikely visions and asked to make of them what they will. Some, like the scripted self-portrait that has become a living memorial to Felix Gonzalez-Torres, require explanation to comprehend. Others have more to say to viewers with specific knowledge, like Takashi Murakami's presentation, which is based upon the history of Japanese animation and comic book art.
While the content of the exhibition is disparate, it is in the nature of the beast to be so. The curator's global reach, compounded by a contemporary embrace of an unlimited variety of mediums of expression, predicts a variety of artwork that will reveal itself in different ways. Some will invariably suffer in comparison with more accomplished or simply splashier neighbors. What ties this exhibition together so well -- and makes for a good visual and printed read -- is Grynsztejn's particular state-of-the-arts vision, which she supports well through the artists she's selected.
Overall this is an approachable show as well as one that has brought to Pittsburgh an enlightening array of the superstars and the up-and-coming of at least a segment of the global art scene.
The museum is open 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., Tuesday through Saturday, and 1 to 5 p.m. Sunday. Admission is $6, adults; $5, seniors; $4, children and students; and members free. Information: 412-622-3131.
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