The Last Big Push

It’s springtime and the days are longer, the light brighter and the galleries are flush with a new crop of art flowers. I wanted to get out and see the sights, as it’s the last big push before the summer lull. I went to a few galleries today so I’ll break it down.

I started at the Baumgartner Gallery. They are showing Wes Sherman and Marci MacGuffie, two very capable abstractionists refining the academic Postmodern line. MacGuffie’s work is workmanlike scatter drawings of abstracted forms and techniques in the tradition of Pfaff, Mehretu and Ritchie. Sherman’s work is early Shirley Kaneda meets Stephen Mueller. They make capable corporate work that would look good in any of the new office buildings that are popping up all over Manhattan. Nothing earth shattering here, just meat and potatoes. A quick look round and out the door.

After getting past the ominously papered glass doors at Zach Feuer’s space I stepped into a dark room full of televised claymations by Nathalie Djurberg. Like all things Feuer these videos explore and detail wacky sexual fantasies. Unfortunately the animation technique is horrible and the clay figures were done in a ham fisted fashion. These animations were thrown together in an afternoon, and boy did it look it. Hey I’m all for claymation SMBD, but couldn’t Djurberg have at least spent a bit of time to make these things look a little better. Today the art world expects that heavy “I’m in a hurry to express myself” look, but I believe that this artist should have pushed the visual content in these works a bit harder. Lazy is not expression it’s just tiresome. The works fit in with Zach’s aesthetic, and these videos dovetail with other artists in the stable.

Across the way at Gladstone, Matthew Barney seems to be channeling Rachel Whiteread and Joseph Bueys in a big way. There isn’t much to say about this show. I haven’t seen the movie, and these works felt like left over set pieces. As sculpture they made no sense. I will say that I found it a bit strange that for all the machismo in the fabrication and presentation of the set pieces the drawings displayed in the back look very fey. They pack no punch at all. The line looks unsure and overly self-conscious. When Barney does go emphatic with the line it’s as if he’s pretending. I’m not quite sure what these drawings have to do with the exhibit or if they have anything to do with the movie for that matter. Were they made as working ideas or were they done after the fact as illustrations? The sculptures in the exhibition overflowed the space of Gladstone’s gallery, which might be part of the problem. This exhibition like so many contemporary installations explores the idea of heft, bulk and material. It’s a kind of Costco aesthetic derived from the intellectual malaise inherent in post minimal practice. Maybe the movie makes all this stuff understandable. Unfortunately I’ve missed the limited run at the cinema. Oh well.

James Lee Byars' work at Mary Boone makes the gallery look and feel like a church. I felt tentative as I entered the space, almost like I was intruding on some kind of ceremony. If I heard choirs singing it wouldn’t have seemed out of place. Byars had a real feel for theocratic aesthetics. Five human sized plinths spring up from the center of the gallery space. They are dramatically lit and spaced. There's a gold and glass vitrine in the corner with a tiny whatever in it. I don't know what it means but it looks very cool. I'm not sure if the big gold vase in the back has something to do with the plinths or not, but that also looks very dramatic. In the end it’s the three Rs of gallery shows – presentation, presentation, presentation. I've tried to figure it out without a text, but I don't know enough about Byars. It’s impressive, mysterious and ridiculous just like the seventies. Additionally, James Lee Byars seems to be undergoing a giant publicity revival at the moment. In a fit of crass over exposure Perry Rubenstein and Michael Werner are also showing some of his works. I guess it's time for some kind of sales blitz in the secondary market, and a raised profile before a pitch is always a good thing. One can bet that there will be a flood of Byars' work up for sale.

In my mind the Chelsea galleries are beginning to resemble upscale used car dealerships. I get to shop around for a new art vehicle fueled by a renewable aesthetic. Like a car lot rube I can kick the tires, check under the hood and drive away with a high pressure, low/no down, twelvemonth service guarantee, fat monthly payment. I had seen the faceless station wagons, the sexy euro sportster, the giant Hummer and the classic Lexus. Its all about finding that “new art smell.” For now I’ve decided that with the price of art so high and the mileage so low I will remain a pedestrian.