Charles Giuliano
steps of the football field sized Building 5 of Mass MoCA, we tried to get the
sense and insight of a new installation by Ann Hamilton. It is an enormous and
daunting space, which inspired the great hall gallery in Frank Gehry’s design
for the Guggenheim at Bilbao. Or it may be compared to the dimensions and
challenges posed by the vast Turbine Hall of Tate Modern in London and the
industrial vistas of Dia Beacon.
For museums
and their curators, these dramatic great halls present a set of issues and
possibilities. In essence, how best to exploit these vaulted spaces. The
tendency has been to present artists known for working with such dimensions, a
relatively short A list of international artists, either in single installation
pieces, or a grouping of large sculptures. There are other options, for
example, to break up the space with partitions to display a large exhibition of
works with more conventional dimensions. But curators appear not to move in
that direction. The result, eventually, will create a sense of repetition in
the short list of the anointed, of which Hamilton is an example, as one travels
to visit such venues. This creates a genre of bigness as a category of
contemporary art. It is a strategy that one often encounters on the circuit of
Biennials. Previously, for example, Hamilton has represented in the United
States at the 1991 Sao Paulo Bienal, and the 1999 Venice Biennale.
Often such
curatorial decisions seem motivated more by who will best command the space of
the national pavilion than the strongest artist to advocate issues of national
culture. In evaluating the critical mass of contemporary art production this
seems to favor the tip of the iceberg. So we have to consider the aesthetics
and politics of an art of spectacle. Such projects are the product of teams of
technicians, installers, assistants, interns and volunteers. All working for
the greater good. But unlike an epic movie like Lord of the Rings, where at the
end of the film the dense scroll of credits may run for ten to fifteen minutes
to an often emptied theater, the single credit in such art exhibitions is the
artist.
As Mass MoCA
is closing in on its 5th anniversary it has been interesting to see how it has
treated this unique space. It was launched with a dense display of individual
paintings by Robert Rauschenberg joined as a kind of wrap around wall as well
as free standing elements. Having this as an inaugural work was a great coup
for the museum. It entailed a loan from a living artist. He owns many works
that he had not been able to install as a whole on any prior occasion. No
museum, or even a private collector who owned the work, would be likely to lend
it as the space does not meet climate control specifications.
This was
followed by huge, surreal, breathing, organic, intestinal, bladder- like
sculptures by Tim Hawkinson. The work was popular with many viewers but I found
it gimmicky and jokey. The Robert Wilson piece that followed, 14 Stations, was
magnificent but up too long. It deserves to be permanently installed somewhere.
This is the concept of Dia Beacon, for example, but not the kind of work they favor.
As neighbors
of Mass MoCA, it is intriguing to follow the evolution of what the museum does,
in an ongoing basis, with this singular space.
Back on the
steps, I concentrated on first impressions of Hamilton’s Corpus. The dictionary
defines Corpus as, "1. The body of a man or animal especially when dead-
now chiefly humorous. 2. A comparatively solid and homogeneous structure
forming a part or an organ, esp. of the brain. 3. A general collection of
writings; the whole literature of a subject. 4. The main body: esp. the
principle of a fund or estate, as opposed to interest, etc."
Attached to
the ceiling are forty, pneumatic mechanisms that lift and release single sheets
of translucent onionskin paper. There are parallel rows of large, horn-shaped speakers
that simultaneously descend and ascend from the rafters touching the
accumulated paper on the floor and then returning to the vault above. Looking
down the length of the space, the floor to ceiling windows, comprising hundreds
of individual panes of glass, have been covered with red or magenta silk
organza.
On the day of
our visit, just a couple of weeks after the opening, there were a number of
families and small children in the gallery. At slow but regular intervals
individual sheets of paper were released to flutter and drop to the floor.
Children were playfully trying to catch them. They were also kicking them, as
one would fall leaves or snow, and gathering them into piles. One child was
diving belly-flop style onto a pile of paper. As of now, the density of papers
is about ankle high. It will be interesting to come back in the ensuing months
to view the space gradually piling higher and higher. So it is a work in
progress which may also be why the museum is setting an end date in October. After
that, the depth of the material may become hazardous. They may have to send out
search and rescue teams to recover missing children.
The magenta
covered windows and ersatz nave of speakers are clearly intended to evoke a
cathedral like emotion. The dimensions are similar to the Early Christian,
long, rectangular basilica form. But, the degree to which this concept has been
realized is problematic.
Visiting on a
gloomy winter afternoon the light in the space was dull and diffused. The
windows were just pink. No particular religiosity in that. This impact may be
quite different when the bright summer sun streams through the windows creating
a suffused, pinkish light through the basilica. Hamilton uses no interior
artificial light so the level of illumination during this winter visit was just
dull.
Each of the
moving speakers represents a separate voice. They are heard individually or in
unison following an orchestrated pattern. The voices are hushed and muffled.
Try as I might I could not focus on a coherent text or message. It was just
ambivalent. This may have been obstructed by the ambient noise of a gallery
with numerous visitors.
After an
interval of time we walked through the space and into the smaller gallery
behind the end wall. There we found a dark room, the walls painted a deep
chroma, recycled from the prior Wilson installation which displayed drawings in
this space. Above were four, rapidly spinning speakers on the ends of long
rods. The breathing voices/ sounds were culled from a prior collaboration,
Mercy, with Meredith Monk.
Proceeding
through this gallery we ascended to the balcony/ gallery that overlooks the
basilica space below. Here one finds a grid of crude white benches or pews
fabricated from the recycled beams from a floor that was removed to create the
two-story space of the large gallery. Seated on a bench, we see an evolving
line of text spinning about the room. With time and patience one may read the
message which is given in tiny increments.
From the edge
of the balcony there is an overview of the main gallery. From above there are
the interesting patterns created as people shuffle through the space kicking
away the accumulated paper/ leaves/ snow.
Having now
described the physical aspects of the work we should attempt to convey what it
all means. It would have helped to attend the opening and artist’s talk but we
had another commitment that weekend. Nevertheless, the museum might be more
thorough in providing adequate information to the media trying to report on a
complex new work. In the press packet there is no artist statement or
curatorial essay. As is so often the case, this may appear months later in a
catalogue. When a publication is in progress, and a project has been several
years in development, the media should be provided with the text of statements
and essays. For this major project, a generic, two and a half page press
release, with no additional information, images, or printouts, is egregiously
inadequate.
In the press release
Mass MoCA director, Joseph Thompson, states that, "Ann is probably the
best known maker of site-specific installations in this country if not the
world. Being in one of her evocative installations engages all the senses: they
are experimental, immersive, kinesthetic, and, in this case, liturgical without
liturgy." Amen.
Ann Hamilton,
“Corpus”, Mass MoCA, North Adams, Massachusetts, December 13, 2003 through
October, 2004.
