letter
from new york : : ian
summers
the
rise and rise of photography
A
group of thirty-four students entered the Bruce Silverstein Gallery in Manhattan's
expanding Chelsea district led by a red mustachioed teacher who seemed as disinterested
as they were. High school or university students. This was a field trip. They
were fulfilling an obligation. Most wore baggies, chains, body piercings, and
other paraphernalia that has become their costume.
Bruce
Silverstein proudly told me that his is the only gallery in Chelsea specializing
in vintage photographs. His gallery was surrounded by a seemingly square mile
of contemporary photography exhibits. Silverstein's walls were tense with mementos
of World War II images by photojournalist and artist Lucien Aigner. This is the
first solo exhibition of early Aigner's. The show celebrates Aigner's one hundredth
birthday.
"Why
would they be showing this shit," said a student. "It's old." I cringed. I realized
that if she was in her mid teen years, I could be three times her age. I wondered
how this culture differed from my era. My own teen aged costume of defiance consisted
of black sandals, dirty feet, a black turtleneck, black Levis, and-I can see out
but you can't see in-iridescent black sunglasses. On weekends, when prowling Greenwich
Village, I might have been seen wearing a black beret. Black was beautiful.
Beatniks,
Hippies, Yippees, Yuppies, Boomers, Generation X'ers, what's the difference? Anyway,
what does this have to do with art galleries in Chelsea? Well, elder (21-30) Generation
X'ers have money and have become consumers of art. Their interests, needs and
desires have effected the New York art world.
The
beats were focused on their existential selves as a means of expression which
showed up as literature, poetry, coffee houses, eastern religions, etc. Hippies
cared about the world. The psychedelic art movement spawned popular artists like
Peter Max who would later be asked to become a member of Mayor Rudy Guiliani's
Decency Squad.
They
were the flower children until they quit and became yuppies which manifested careerists
like Koons, Sallé, Schnabel and those who are already forgotten. Koons whom has
risen from recent poverty continues to have his work manufactured by assistants.
I always wondered whether he could paint. He is the epitome of boy wonder even
at the age of 46. Now, Sallé can paint. However his work at the Gagosian last
month brought nothing new to the world. Doomed perhaps, to become wallpaper in
corporate lobbies. Schnabel should have been a film maker in the first place.
His latest movie is a better example of his painting than his paintings.
Aging
X-ers seem to have turned the focus back on themselves without giving a damn about
making a difference. They are isolated. They socialize on the Internet and rarely
create opportunities to look others in the eye. They hide behind Internet handles
in chat rooms. They are seen at openings in their alter ego nerd outfits. They
speak only to each other, if at all. They avoid labor intensive activities. They
made their fortunes before they were 25. They lack humility. They come from Silicon
Alley and Madison Avenue which no one refers to as Madison Avenue anymore because
the advertising businesses moved downtown to lofts in Soho abandoned by galleries
who moved to Chelsea.
X-ers
go to galleries to furnish apartments their parents could never afford. They are
looking for easy-does-it art. They are looking for accessible art. And aging X-ers
are becoming the biggest purchasing power in the Chelsea gallery world.
The
gallery world is a service industry. And like all service industries it has to
ask itself whom does it serve? Are gallery owners agents for the artists they
represent or are they consultants to collectors?
An
X-er walked into a rather well known Chelsea gallery and started to browse. Ordinarily
viewers are not disturbed by a salesperson of any kind. They look and leave or
they look and dawdle, waiting for someone to come out of the back room.
The
gallery director asked, "May I help you?"
"I
am looking to fill up space on the western wall of my 6,000 square foot loft on
Spring Street. It used to belong to an artist before I bought it." said the X-er.
"Of course,"
thought the gallery owner who knew that too many of New York's artists have already
moved to Brooklyn, forced out of their spaces by greedy landlords. The dealer
escorted the X-er into his customer salon and offered him a glass of sherry. He
asked our X-er about his preferred taste. The X-er did not answer any of the questions.
He told the dealer that he only had twenty-five minutes and wanted only to look
at art that he could have delivered to his loft for the party on Saturday. He
looked around. Eventually he said, "hey, what's that picture over there worth?"
It was a photograph
of the Mardi Gras with bare breasted women. "That work is by John Jones and his
work sells in the range of $1200 for framed prints. And it is part of a series
of eleven photographs taken...." "I'll buy all eleven," said the X-er. As he wrote
a check for $11,880 which is $120 less than the smallest painting in the gallery.
The details of the sale made its rounds throughout 529 West 20th Street, to the
Dia Center, uptown as far as 28th Street. It resulted in a proliferation of accessible
easy-does-it photography shows.
No
one can doubt the influence of photography on the art world now. About half of
the March offerings were photographs. And March was the month for the Armory Show
with dealers and galleries worldwide. About half of the Armory Show exhibited
photographs. Galleries are following trends rather than creating them.
I
wandered into 303 Gallery where there was an exhibit of Tim Gardner's work. From
a distance they appeared to be banal self-conscious pretentious snap shots. At
closer glance the images were voyeuristic paintings of snap shots using the photograph
itself as subject. The individual or group's actions make us aware of the interaction
between the subject and the unknown photographer. The paintings are painted from
photographs given to him by his brothers, their friends, or his parents. In this
new body of work, Gardner continues to push the watercolor medium. Exploring the
complexity of his characters is done technically, as if a more accurate facial
expression will bring him and us closer to to what is going on inside his subject.
Paintings as
paintings can still be seen of course. Robert Dash's Florilegium at ACA Galleries
were reminders of his early near abstractions of landscapes. Dash's mark making
is facile. He has invented a language of brushstroke and color that redefines
floral painting; huge colorful abstractions that only resemble flowers in the
second or third look. And then they can be nothing but flowers.
Rico-Maresca
was showing photographic collages by graphic designer/illustrator Ivan Chermayoff.
While extremely well executed, these images didn't escape a sense of belonging
in a magazine, where they would be seen and cherished for a few seconds before
the viewer turned the page. Graphic design rarely transforms from print to gallery
walls with the exception of the poster. There were far too many images which after
a few minutes began repeating themselves relentlessly. It was as if one could
visualize the repetitive beat of an old phonograph needle stuck in the groves
of a 78 rpm record.
Galleries
are meant to be profitable for viewers, collectors, artists, and gallery owners.
After all they are businesses. There was a time when intellectuals took their
lead from innovative shows. Today galleries seem more concerned with branding
and positioning rather than setting trends and taking risks. In what ways will
the collapse of dot.coms effect what is being shown in New York galleries?
All
is not lost however. Before I close this letter, I want to tell you about the
show of shows; the Bombdiggity of installations... [Go
to part 2]
Other
articles:
[leather to die for]
