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- <text id=93TT1969>
- <title>
- June 28, 1993: Art:A Shambles In Venice
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
- Jun. 28, 1993 Fatherhood
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- REVIEWS, Page 67
- ART
- A Shambles In Venice
- </hdr>
- <body>
- <p>By ROBERT HUGHES
- </p>
- <qt>
- <l>EXHIBIT: The Venice Biennale</l>
- <l>WHERE: Various Sites In The City</l>
- <l>WHAT: Contemporary Work From Around The World</l>
- </qt>
- <p> THE BOTTOM LINE: This dull, incoherent survey gives radicalism
- a bad name.
- </p>
- <p> Any way you slice it, the 45th Venice Biennale of contemporary
- art, which opened to the public last week, is a failure. The
- more interesting parts of it tend to be the peripheral shows--a fine homage to Francis Bacon installed in the 18th century
- rooms of the Museo Correr, on St. Mark's Square, and some multimedia
- pieces by filmmaker Peter Greenaway and stage designer Robert
- Wilson in a section called "Slittamenti," or "Trans-Actions."
- But as survey and analysis, this Biennale is quite incoherent
- and achieves the near impossible feat of making what still passes
- for "radical" creation look even weaker than it actually is.
- </p>
- <p> The Biennale is the world's oldest modern art festival, dating
- back to 1895. Every two years a commissioner is appointed to
- oversee its structure and content. This year the task fell to
- a Neapolitan art critic named Achille Bonito Oliva. Bonito Oliva
- is a mini-celebrity in Italy, an imbonitore, or bustling promoter,
- of groups and movements, who gave the '80s its silliest piece
- of art jargon, "la transavanguardia," the "trans-avant-garde."
- He wanted to create a Biennale that would transcend national
- differences and illustrate "cultural nomadism." To put it charitably,
- his talents are not up to the task.
- </p>
- <p> Bonito Oliva's curatorial "method" has been to jumble works
- together in the Italian pavilion under the title "The Cardinal
- Points of Art." The result is a shambles, featuring the usual
- notables from Joseph Beuys to Georg Baselitz, interfused with
- less famous figures and a large photography section. Many of
- the individual works are worth seeing--or reseeing, since
- not a few have been round the international circuit already--but since this is one of the worst-hung shows in recent memory,
- it is quite hard to do even that.
- </p>
- <p> Of the other national pavilions, the best is the American one,
- showing sculpture by Louise Bourgeois. Now 81 and at the top
- of her form, Bourgeois is the chief heiress of Surrealist obsession
- in America. Though her work is sometimes overpraised for feminist
- reasons, it carries a deep strand of recollection interwoven
- with sexual fantasy and dreams of vengeance, refracted through
- strange uses of material. Included in the Venice show are some
- of her recent cage sculptures, including Cell (Choisy), a harsh
- essay on memory: inside an iron-mesh enclosure is a pink marble
- effigy of her childhood home in France, where her parents repaired
- Gobelin carpets. It has the enticing glow of a Magritte villa
- at dusk, but above the door to the cage, ready to be tripped,
- is a guillotine blade. You can't go home again.
- </p>
- <p> The German pavilion contains a single installation by the political-conceptual
- artist Hans Haacke. In the past Haacke has done many a verbose
- indictment of capitalist culture, but this time he seems to
- have got his epigram down. The first thing you see is a wall
- with a blown-up image of Hitler visiting the 1934 Venice Biennale.
- The floor of the rest of the gallery has been torn up into a
- litter of marble debris, which clatters ominously as visitors
- stumble across it. On the wall behind, the single word: GERMANIA.
- A one-shot piece, but right on target.
- </p>
- <p> The main exhibit in the Spanish pavilion is a room-size sculpture,
- featuring an oversize bed frame, wire mesh and chairs, by Antoni
- Tapies. Tapies 30 years ago was a painter of great distinction,
- but on the evidence of this cumbersome and vapid work, he has
- no talent for sculpture; he is there because the Spanish fixedly
- believe he is the successor to Picasso and Miro--a nationalist
- illusion. The British pavilion, which in previous Biennales
- walked away with the show--Frank Auerbach, Howard Hodgkin
- and the sculptor Tony Cragg--contains a disappointing survey
- of recent work by one of the fathers of Pop art, Richard Hamilton,
- who split the Golden Lion, or main prize, with Tapies.
- </p>
- <p> If there were a Leaden Ass award, it would have to be split
- between France and Australia. The French pavilion confirms the
- ongoing bankruptcy of contemporary art in Paris with a Warhol
- clone named Jean-Pierre Raynaud. His bright idea was to imprint
- 15,500 white ceramic tiles with the same photo of a Neolithic
- human skull and cover the walls of the French pavilion with
- them. As an exercise in prim, sterile chic, it's unbeatable.
- Australia is not short of talent, but the political correctness
- of its official cultural life has sent to Venice the whiny postfeminist
- images of Jenny Watson. Her paintings (of a victimized self,
- plus horses, with braids of hair pinned to the canvas) are comically
- ill done. This is the bottom of the barrel; it also links up
- with the other main section of the Biennale, known as "Aperto
- 93" and installed in the old rope factory at the Arsenal.
- </p>
- <p> If you liked the Whitney Biennial, you may like "Aperto 93."
- Some of its 13 curators, like the American Jeffrey Deitch, are
- in fact dealers--a further development of Postmodernist art
- ethics. Its title, "Emergency," signals that, like the Whitney
- fiasco, it will "address the issues" of sexism, racism, environmental
- decay, the drainage of psychosocial space from modern life,
- the hegemony of mass media and so forth.
- </p>
- <p> The most noticeable work of art in "Aperto 93" greets you before
- you go in; it is a huge mural composed of hundreds of color
- photographs of human genitalia, he, she, he, she, ranging widely
- in age and size. It scored a palpable hit on the G-spot of the
- Italian press, partly because its author, Oliviero Toscani,
- does the advertising photos for Benetton. Despite Toscani's
- stance as a fearless realist, this Don Giovanni's catalog in
- Cibachrome is aesthetically inert, and after five minutes about
- as shocking as a mural of human elbows might be. Nevertheless,
- it wins (hairs-down, as it were) over Gianfranco Gorgoni's similar
- photomural in the Italian pavilion, which shows only women's
- genitals.
- </p>
- <p> There are a few worthwhile things in "Aperto 93." One is The
- World Flag Ant Farm, by the Japanese artist Yukinori Yanagi.
- Yanagi's conceit, a pretty good one, was to make scores of replicas
- of national flags in colored sand, behind Perspex. These are
- linked by tubes and populated by a colony of ants, which scurry
- to and fro between the flags bearing grains of sand in their
- mandibles. Over time the flags become illegible through migration
- and mixture; Yanagi's piece has the same concision and elegance
- as Haacke's in the German pavilion.
- </p>
- <p> Otherwise, the "Aperto" is apocalyptic trivia, devoid of aesthetic
- impulse. Everything is on much the same dull, hectoring, narcissistic
- and politically simpleminded level; all complexity of artistic
- response has been ironed down into puerile rhetoric, one-liners
- that have no further resonance once you've got their meager
- point. Some have no point: How about a nice big wall covered
- in monochrome orange carpet, or a giant mound of Plasticine?
- The mix of witless conceptualism, pseudo documentary and weakly
- recycled minimalism is stifling.
- </p>
- <p> If one were to choose a single work that summed up the enterprise,
- it would be the one by Sean Landers. A video monitor shows a
- tape of the artist dropping his pants and going through the
- motions of masturbation. Behind it, on the wall, are sheets
- of yellow lined legal paper covered with the artist's ruminations:
- he set out to write 250 pages during the installation period
- of "Aperto." "So today I've still got to press on to page 250.
- I just feel so corny here writing like an idiot. Anyway it's
- hard to get my head out of the bummer this place is giving me.
- Dam it I can't write. I'm too bummed out." Ah, the anguish of
- creation! The visitor knows what he means.
- </p>
- <p> But there is always Venice itself; one can leave the Biennale,
- visit the Accademia or St. Zanipolo and find relief from the
- stale and mannered exhaustion of the New in the perpetual freshness
- and vigor of the Old.
- </p>
-
- </body>
- </article>
- </text>
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