 |
|
|
and Ant Farm 1968 - 76 Institute of Contemporary Art, Philadelphia reviewed by |
|
Pairing the installation of Pepon Orsorio with the Ant Farm retrospective at the ICA makes possible some interesting comparisons of political priorities in art practice over the last thirty years. Osorio’s significant transformation of the downstairs space is remarkable but the clearly detectable ethical perspective underneath -- in the guise of a critique of the DHS bureaucracy-- is somewhat predictable from the onset. Contrast this with the still surprising work of the Ant Farm collective whose antics continue to carry the mark of resistance to authority and the anarchic fun attached to it. Orsorio’s approach is more refined, and dead serious. It should be; this show represents Osorio’s three year residency in the DHS and the result is largely a political statement that condemns the impersonal foster care system. We get the idea. Trials and Turbulence is full of recontextualized office cubicles, storage areas and a entire courtroom. But, although the presentation is deft, and the impetus behind the work is clear, the installations seem somehow superfluous to the message. It is not surprising, of course, to see these issues presented as art, but there is a nagging doubt as to how these installations serve as social commentary beyond the reach of the gallery and in the mind of the viewer. Perhaps, it is the overly linear quality of the logic underlying the work that undercuts its message? The courtroom itself is uncanny simply because it is so out of context. Still, it seems somehow obvious or incomplete. The most effective part of the show was the massive cage full of a family’s (dis)possessions. Emotive collections like this are powerful. The disturbing installation which encloses a video of a boy running away seems overly sentimental though it worked well formally. Alas, the museum context is a problem. Imagine viewing some of these video works in an actual courtroom while waiting for jury duty. That would be a weird twist. The video work, which features real-life pawns of the foster care system, is much more to the point. Metaphor is not necessary here. Is this indictment of a system of red tape a little too easy a target? Could it easily include the notion of all bureaucratic systems or our universal office-ness. In any case, the exactitude in the cubicles is moving and describing the caseworkers via their tchotkes is a good idea. Who are these people who clutter their desks in such a sentimental way? These works resonated particularly for being so out of context. The taste of each individual case worker is certainly amplified, but how does examination of the human element explain the inhumane nature of bureaucracy? I couldn’t help but imagine the ICA offices upstairs and that relationship to art shown there. Perhaps the museum artifice limits this sort of socially inclined installation. No matter how you work it, one is still very much in an art gallery and doesn’t this denude the whole idea of social criticism? Sure, the line where art overlaps with a heartbreaking cycle of dysfunctional family life is a hard one to visualize and Orsorio must be congratulated for taking it on so literally. However, I may learn as much about nasty and arbitrary judicial process from a few episodes of Law and Order (that is certainly not art) and its myriad offshoots. Oddly enough, the Ant Farm display upstairs, which is mostly documentation of their 10 year existence from 1968 to 1976, offers another sort of commentary on culture but with a more irreverent stance. For those old enough, this is a flashback to those turbulent times when there was a concrete thing called counter-culture. Though the drawings and notebooks are interesting in a ‘period’ way, it is the video work that still packs a punch. Lampooning the Kennedy assassination in The Final Frame, the group pours salt on a open wound. Not only is it in extremely bad taste, but is a disturbing indictment of America media culture. (Incidentally, has anyone ever noticed how many future anchor men were working the post-assassination in Dallas, 1963? This is one for conspiracy freaks) Of course, Ant Farm was interested in the televised nature of the tragedy. Media Burn was also influential. In this infamous performance piece, two of the team, dressed as astronauts, crashed a modified Cadillac into a wall of burning televisions. These exploits always pushed the boundary of art and resonated with a wide audience matching the zeitgeist of the period perfectly. Experimenting with new video technology and futuristic architectural ideas, these guys behaved a little like frat boys and, refreshingly, didn’t take themselves too seriously. If only other things from that era aged as well! I am left thinking that the counter culture got a bum rap historically and the young generation of yore did have something to say beside the usual sex, drugs and rock n’ roll. Unfortunately, today, the conservative culture and media itself are more complex animals that seem dead set on reversing any progress that ‘counter-culture’ artists may have incited. This may explain why Ant Farm did not morph into another more up to date entity. The crude video art of that time and its revolutionary tendencies were soon to be eclipsed by technology itself. Somehow, with the advent of cable things got slicker and the spirit was lost. MTV began in 1981 and commercialism was the norm. In an ideal world, Ant Farm’s sort of work would have found it’s way to the mainstream (media) which it was originally meant to infiltrate. ©
2004 James Rosenthal and InLiquid.com;
image copyright © Pepon
Osario and ICA |
|
|||||||||||
